


All We Need Is A Mystery

by Rachel_Lu



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Detectives, F/M, Falling In Love, Murder, Partners to Lovers, Partnership, Police, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7106053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Lu/pseuds/Rachel_Lu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Rose Tyler is used to working on her own, but she'll have to work out exactly how to work now that she has John Smith by her side as her partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to mrsbertucci for suggesting this trope and their enthusiasm behind it! Hope you enjoy it, love! I think it'll be really fun to write!
> 
>  
> 
> As a side note : For Rose's character, I wanted to make her a sort of Alec Hardy-esque character and twist things so this time it's the Doctor making Rose better. Hope you all don't mind me taking advantage of my AU privileges!

She stirred her coffee a little absently, just trying to keep herself awake.  She'd been up for almost a full twenty four hours looking over a case that she was close to solving. She was _so_ close in fact, that she couldn't be bothered to put it down. 

"God, Rose, what are you doing?" Commissioner Donna entered the room, her blazer clean and looking incredibly smart. 

Rose huffed out in frustration and looked over her shoulder, her hands still firmly on her desk.  "Working."

"That's the same blouse you wore yesterday.  Have you been home since then?" Donna asked carefully, trying not to step on Rose's toes, especially if she had been up for hours and hours on end.  

Rose lifted a shoulder.  "I took a quick nap.  I'm so close, Commissioner, look," She showed Donna the papers and files she had been looking over and it appeared to be true that she was on every right path.  "Everything we need is right here," Rose said, "We've got a plate number now, all we've got to do is get a warrant for the resident's arrest."

Donna blew out her cheeks and rolled her eyes at the young detective.  "You're going to be dead before you're thirty," she said, picking up Rose's manila folder.  "I'll get the warrant."

"Then I'm going home to go to bed."

"You're not, actually."

Rose looked up in confusion.  "What do you mean, I'm not?"

Donna shot Rose A Look, and then rolled her eyes.  "You're not going to be alert on the job if you have to handle all your cases by yourself," she said in a scolding manner.  "It's come to the attention of the board that we need to bring a partner on board for you, and he'll be here in an hour.  I trust you have an extra set of clothes somewhere?"

"In my locker," Rose nodded, then the rest of Donna's words set in.  "Wait, I don't need a partner!"

"Yes you do, Detective Tyler," Donna crossed her arms, the folder under her shoulder.  Rose watched in anxiously, in case any papers were to fall out.  Donna whistled a high note, getting Rose's attention back on her.

"It's for your own safety," Donna said firmly, "You stay up all day and all night.  Regardless of what you think you need, you need someone to split the workload with.  Not to mention a friend. Have you had one of those since high school?"

"All they did was party," She said, "I _have_ friends."

"You have _a_ friend.  One," Donna corrected.  "And that's just because Mickey Smith is up at weird hours anyways and has time to grab chips with you.  It wouldn't hurt you to meet somebody else."

Rose sighed.  "Fine, if it'll get you off my back."

Donna lightly thumped Rose on the back of the head.  "Go fix yourself.  Jack and Ianto will be up to deliver your partner in an hour.  Got it?"

"Got it," Rose relented, knowing she didn't have much of a choice.  

All the detectives had lockers in the basement, where the beat police officers did.  Most of them usually just kept snacks and another pair of socks and a stick of deodorant in there, but Rose Tyler kept another full outfit, stockings with the belt to hook them onto, and shoes.  Also, she had an extra makeup kit, and hairbrush just in case she needed to redo the rest of her appearance.  When she looked into her pocket mirror, it appeared that she was going to have to. 

She trudged up to the bathroom in a sort of walk of shame, holding all her getting-ready equipment.  The others at the London Police Department were so used to her doing this that it didn't faze them at all.  They offered her sympathetic smiles but nothing else.  They probably all wanted her to have a partner as well, she mused, if it was true that she needed one.  The thought wasn't exactly appealing, but that didn't mean that she would be horrible to whoever was assigned to her. 

At eight in the morning, the women's restroom was blessedly empty.  She changed quickly to avoid embarrassment and set about the more mortifying task of reapplying her makeup and pinning her hair back once more.  It almost wasn't salvageable, so she had to let two tendrils of wavy hair hang down on either side of her face. 

When she finally applied the last bit of gloss, she found that she hadn't been able to erase the dark spots under her eyes, but the rest of her was looking rather acceptable.  Her pink blouse didn't draw attention to the paleness of her skin and the blazer and pencil skirt she wore were tight, accentuating her figure but still giving her room to run if need be.  Her heels were low enough to provide a bit of a lift but they didn't make her feet hurt at the end of the night.  

Finally at least semi satisfied, she made her way back to her desk to finish writing the report for her case.  It was productive work, and damn it if Rose Tyler wasn't productive. She watched her own loopy handwriting scrawl across the page, the black ink drying a little too slowly and making her smudge some of it.  She grunted in irritation but there really wasn't much else she could do about it.  She'd type it up on her computer later. 

She wasn't one hundred percent sure an hour had passed when she heard a voice over her shoulder. 

"Working hard, Rosie?" Jack Harkness asked, making her jump. 

She swiveled around in her chair and arched an eyebrow.  "I was," she replied, "Got something for me?"

"A partner."  Jack waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed.  "He's gorgeous, Rose."

"Don't even think about it," she pointed a finger at him and got to her feet, smoothing her hands down her skirt.  "And where's this mystery man, exactly?  We've established he's a he."

"Oh, is he ever," Jack said wistfully.  "Ianto's keeping an eye on him, said I needed to come get you.  He's out in the front of the station."

She wrinkled her nose as they started their walk there.  "And why's that?" She asked.  "He couldn't come back here?"

"Commissioner Donna thought it would be best if you just met him up front right here," he shrugged.  "You know?"

"I don't know what Commissioner Donna is up to these days," Rose replied.  "How are her and Lee doing?" 

"Haven't a clue," Jack replied happily.  "My guess is he's pretty close to proposing at this time."

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"Well, good for her."

"Ooh, is that a wistful tone I hear in your voice?" He asked.  "Is Rose Tyler not yet in love of her own?"

Rose snorted.  "As Donna points out, I have one friend, and I already tried dating him."

"We're you're friends!" Jack replied indignantly, sticking out his bottom lip in a childish manner, making Rose giggle. 

She shook her head.  "S'not the same," She admitted, "You've got your work mates, you know, and then you've got your mate mates."

"And then you've got your _mates_ mates mates."

"And I haven't had one of those since I was nineteen." 

Jack turned on her, the shock evident on his face.  "Rose Tyler, are you telling me you haven't been on a date in three years?" 

She shook her head, feigning mournfulness.  "I think I've been rather alone."

He laughed and picked up their speed.  He was clearly more interested in getting to her partner than she was.  She sighed a little bit and lengthened her stance to keep up with him. 

When they reached the main help desk, where Ianto stood with a strange man, Rose couldn't help but address the fact that Jack had been very, very right.  The man was absolutely gorgeous.  

He had years on his eyes, she could tell from here, he looked _timeless,_ but at the same time young and buoyant and ready for the world ahead of him.  His hair was tousled in the most glorious of ways, and not from the wind outside.  It was intentional, bold, and suit him clearly.

And then there was his actual suit.  Tight, brown with blue pinstripes, with a tan trench coat over it.  It was an odd choice, she noticed, to wear Converses with such an ensemble, but it somehow fit him.  He looked over when Jack cleared his throat and beamed at Rose.  He approached her with his hand extended. 

"Sorry about my appearance," he said, shaking her hand firmly.  "I was sort of just hired.  I'll be all proper tomorrow."

She shrugged and released his hand.  "Well, it's none of my business what you wear to work." She offered him the biggest smile she could manage.  "What do they call you, then?"

"John Smith.  Or the Doctor, if you like."

Rose wrinkled her nose.  "That's a bit pretentious."

"I suppose a bit."

"That's alright, I like it.  We can't go around calling you 'Detective Doctor' though, can we?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. 

He chuckled and oh, that was a really, really nice sound.  "No, I guess you can't," he replied. "So I guess it'll be just John for me."

"Well, you'll have the desk next to mine.  I'm gonna guess it's up to me to give you the tour?"

He nodded mutely, before blurting out, "Your name?" 

"They didn't tell you?" Rose furrowed her brows.  "Rose Tyler.  Now, come on."

He followed after her quietly, though she could tell by the buzzing energy behind her that there was a lot that he wanted to say.  She led him to her desk and pointed to the one just to the right of it.  

"There you go, that's yours," she said, "Anything you want or need to get put there, you let me know, and I'll tell the Commissioner."

"Oh, I know the Commissioner personally."

She looked up in him in surprise.  "You do?" She asked.  "The way she talked, you'd think she only knew Lee."  Shocked at her own words, she clapped her hand over her mouth.  "I shouldn't have said that," she said, giving him an apologetic look.

He laughed and shook his head.  "No, you're absolutely right.  Donna's my cousin.  Though, before you say anything, that's not why I got the job here.  Though, it's true, Donna suspected that we would be a good match for a PI pair."

"Private Eyes?" Rose frowned, "Detectives, you mean?"

"Nobody said Detectives couldn't have a little side fun," he said, and she laughed.  

"You're not starting today, are you?" She asked.  "I've been up for hours and I just sort of want to go home."

"No, I start tomorrow.  Donna says we'll get the first case that hits the table, no matter what it is."  He smiled, "I do like a bit of a mystery."

She found herself grinning back at him.  "Yeah, me too."  She found herself warming up to the idea of having a partner, though not necessarily one hundred percent.  She was used to being independent and if she wasn't, she wasn't quite sure what she would do.  She probably would feel odd sleeping at proper hours and having someone to put work she didn't feel like doing on. 

"Well, I can set myself up here, I think you should probably get some rest."  He looked genuinely concerned for a man who had just met her. 

She nodded. "Yeah, thanks.  Wait, here, I'll give you my cell number, you give me a call if you need anything."

"Oh!  Of course, yes," he handed her his phone and she gave him hers and they silently plugged their numbers in. Rose put her full name with 'work' in parentheses around it, just in case he forgot.  One of her boyfriends had told her that she was a very forgettable girl. 

When he took his phone back, he, of course, noticed.  Very observant, him, and she had a feeling that he was really going to make a good detective.  He frowned and looked up at her.  "I don't think that's quite necessary," he said, backspacing to delete her last bit.  She felt a sort of warmth blossom in her chest, the notion that he would recall her by name alone. 

"If you need anything at all," She insisted, "I mean anything, I'm a call away."

"Got it," he smiled, his eyes crinkling in a very endearing way at the sides.  "I'll see you here tomorrow, Detective Tyler."

She grinned and picked up her briefcase before starting to leave. 

"Oh, wait!  You forgot this."  He handed her the report she had been hand writing, preparing for transfer.  

She breathed out a sigh of relief and took it from him.  "Thanks, almost forgot," she said, relief evident in her voice.  "See you later."

Offering one last glance over her shoulder, she decided that maybe a partner wouldn't be such a bad thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how graphic the violence in this is going to be in this one yet, I'm thinking about just putting the warning at the top of the chapter it happens at, since it will probably only be just one chapter that people can skip if they don't want it. 
> 
> Mentions of Escorting and Murder in this chapter. The plot thickens on Rose's past...

Rose still managed to type up her report before she fell asleep, barely managing to get into her pajamas.  It didn't take her long to shut the curtains to block the light out of her flat so she could get comfortable.  She set her alarm for ten hours-- which would take her to about four in the morning-- and curled into her bed under the covers.  She swore she'd eat when she woke up, she was too tired to even think about eating.

Even though her exhaustion crept through her, she could still feel her intrigue about her new partner seeping into her bones.  He was positively beautiful, that much was true, but maybe he was more than that too, he'd seemed nice, and it had been a long time since she'd met a nice guy. 

_No._

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to shake that thought right from her head. He was her coworker now, her partner, and it wouldn't do her well to be thinking inappropriate thoughts about him.  Though, they'd probably be rather nice, seeing him in the morning would be incredibly awkward.  

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.  It occurred to her that she was probably just repressed.  

Rose woke up around two in the morning to the phone call vibrating against her nightstand.  She lifted the phone and pressed send before gurgling out a husky 'hello'.

"Hi, yes, is this Rose Tyler?" 

She blinked slowly.  "Yes.  Detective Smith?"

"Oh, yes, that's me." He paused.  "I'm sorry, I woke you."

"Needed to get up in a couple hours anyway," she admitted as she glanced at her clock.  "Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually," John said hurriedly, "We have a case waiting for us when we go in to work, and Donna told me to tell you she wants us there at six, bright and early."

Rose frowned, her displeasure evident in her voice as she asked, "Alright, and why didn't the Commissioner call me directly?"

There was silence on the end of the line for a few moments before John replied sheepishly, "I suppose she didn't want to be the one to wake you up at two in the morning."

She fought down a smile, wanting him to think she was still upset.  "Well, message received loud and clear.  I'll be there."

She heard his happy voice start to bid her goodnight but she hung up on him, throwing her phone back on the nightstand.  Two more hours.  Just two.  She rolled over and fell back asleep.  Those two hours would do her a load of good anyway.

***

Rose would never be able to explain why, exactly, she'd chosen to forego the blazer the next day, leaving her in a cream colored blouse, tight skirt, and stockings and suspenders.  She also didn't know what made her pull back half of her hair into a clip, leaving the rest cascading across her shoulders, and not pull it all up into a bun or a ponytail.  It was when she put on a light lip stain to top off her makeup that she shook her head and marveled at her insanity. 

She was so distracted she didn't notice that she'd slipped on two inch black stilettos instead of her normal, chunky heeled shoe. 

Her drive to the office kept her in her sour mood, because it was just so _London_ for traffic to be bad at five thirty in the morning.  She was still sucking down coffee when she entered the station and walked all the way back to her desk, throwing herself into her chair and taking her laptop from her briefcase.  While it was booting up, she blew out a sigh of relief.  The hard part was done: waking up and getting ready.  Now she just had to do her work, which she was really, really good at. 

John bounded in a minute after six, wearing a black suit with a light blue tie and, still, the beat up white Chucks as a shoe choice.  She decided not to mention it as he sat next to her.  

"Good morning, Rose," He said, offering her a wide smile. 

The look she gave him back could have been classified as a smile, but it was a very firm, business like one.  "Good morning," she replied.  "It's six o' clock.  What are we doing here, again?"

John opened his mouth to respond as Donna approached their desks with two files in her hands. "Who wants a case?"

They followed her to the interrogation room, where she locked the door behind them and threw the folders on the table. 

"I would usually never give a case like this to fresh blood," Donna began, sitting across from the two of them.  "But, Rose, you're our best shot."

Rose furrowed her brows and noticed John staring at her in her peripheral vision, but chose to ignore it.  "Okay, and are you going to tell us why you locked us up in interrogation with you to tell us about a case?"

Donna's mouth set into a grim line.  Her fingernails were tapping on the metal desk, the anxiety written on every one of her pretty features.  "I wanted to call you the second I got it," she admitted, "But you needed your sleep, and I needed you operating at top speed."

"You're scaring me," Rose said, "What's the case?"

"It's a murder."

All the breath left John in one fluid motion.  "Donna, are you sure you want me to-"

Donna's eyes snapped to John, her piercing focus enough to scare him silent.  "John, I know, I _know,_ but this will be good for both of you, and I trust you implicitly on it.  Do you understand me?"

Rose swallowed, hard, now wondering what, exactly, Donna knew about John not wanting a murder case. It could mean big money if they solved it, not to mention peace of mind for the people who's loved one was killed.  She looked over at him and waited for him to say something else, but he just slumped back into his chair as though he were being interrogated himself. 

"Tell us more," Rose said gently, trying to be wary of the feelings of the man next to her.  That was never something she was good at, so the words came out a little more gruffly than she had intended, but that couldn't be helped.

"We have two main suspects," Donna began softly, turning one of the files open.  "Harold Saxon and a man who goes only by Rassilon.  Both men known for crimes in the past, as I'm sure you know."

"Harold Saxon is all armed robbery," Rose said carefully, "Do you really think he'd kill someone?"

"He might," Donna said.  "We don't know.  He's been flying under the radar recently, which is worrying all by itself when it comes to a man like him."

"Why he was released I'll never understand," John said roughly, "He hurt women, Donna."

"I know he did."  Donna leveled her gaze on him.  "We gave him the appropriate sentence and moved on, there was nothing else we could do."

John's jaw set and he looked down at the files.  "Who was killed, then?"

"That's where things become a little complicated," Donna said softly.  "It was a young woman by the name of Grace Clint.  Young, in university, just scraping by."

Rose picked up a picture of the woman.  Dark hair and eyes, a forlorn look on her face.  "Are you sure it wasn't suicide?" Rose asked, reading the woman's body language with the utmost care.

"Yes.  The wounds she had couldn't have been induced upon herself.  She was found stabbed to death on the balcony of a hotel."

John took the file from Donna and skimmed through it.  A hint of steel had entered his voice.  "Did she moonlight?"

Donna wrinkled her nose.  "I should say-"

"She could've been an escort," Rose said, shifting uncomfortably, "But usually the clients of escorts are watched very carefully."

"Rose, believe me, I wouldn't have put you on this case if I-"

She held up her hand.  "S'fine," she said sharply, cutting Donna off.  "It's really fine, yeah?  But what we need to look at is if she was there on business.  If she was in Uni, sh wouldn't be staying at some hotel, would she?"

"No," John shook his head, "She wouldn't be able to afford it, and she'd have no reason for it."

Rose sighed softly, a mournful sound.  "And she's a lovely girl.  That's my first lead," she regarded Donna carefully.  A very relaxed look was schooled over her features.  Rose narrowed her eyes.  "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"She was an escort," Donna relented.  "High end too, but we can't find out who she was under.  We've contacted every Madame in London, all of them deny ever seeing her picture."

Rose blinked and stared down at the photo.  Grace was a rather distinctive woman, looking very much like a sweet but also kicked puppy.  She was the perfect target.  She could feel John, watching her carefully again.  He was reading her well, she knew that, which reassured her in his skills as well as made her dreadfully uncomfortable.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and set the photo down, instead taking the file from John.  "Time of death, one forty-two am."  She shook her head.  "You should have called us in then."

"You're no good to me half dead, Rose Tyler, and that's what you've been all week.  I brought John in to ease your load, I wasn't going to call you both in the moment you got a second of rest."

Rose threw the file down.  "What else have we got?  Is that it?  Who's Rassilon?"

"Rassilon is a crime boss."

John's voice was so quiet that she turned her head in shock to look at him.  His arms were crossed over his chest, his mouth set into a grim line.  "Murders, robberies, assault, you name it, he's done it.  But he's never been caught, always leaves without a trace.  But people always know it's him."

"How do they know?"

John looked at her, finally meeting her eye. "Because they've seen him, of course.  Always wears a cape, like he's some vigilante.  But he's not.  He's ruthless and hates, well, pretty much every human being.  Says they're base and messy and better off dead.  It's kind of like he forgets that he's also human."

"Do you think he was behind this?" Rose asked, gesturing to all the papers laid out before them, "Are there any eye witnesses of the crime?"

Donna nodded.  "There was a woman who saw a man in a cape, but it's not the color was associate with Rassilon.  That's red, this man had on a purple cloak, like he was, I dunno, some sort of royalty.  And he was blond."

John blew out his cheeks. "That's not the sort of detail a man like Rassilon would leave out on accident," he said, "So we have to factor in Saxon as well, because he's blond and his arrogance fits the bill of a man who would wear a bloody purple cape."

"Don't swear," Donna scolded him.  She shuffled all the papers back into the files and handed them to Rose. "I want you to look for her employer first.  And neither of you investigates without the other, do you understand me?  This is far too dangerous a case for one detective to be working, especially Rose."

Rose tightened her jaw in anger.  "Commissioner, I hardly think that my past-"

"Shut up, you don't know that," Donna waved her off.  "The point is, I want this case solved and I want both of you in one piece when that happens, do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," John said, getting to his feet as Rose did.  Donna stood as well, her hands on the desk before her in a somewhat intimidating stance. 

"You'll do as I say," She said, directing her words at Rose.  "I know you have the tendency to go off on your own Rose, especially when you're passionate about something, but I can't let you do that this time, do you understand?"

Rose nodded mutely. "Yeah.   _Yes."_

"Good.  Report back to me tonight with anything you find."

She unlocked the interrogation room, and Rose shot her a questioning glare.  "Why'd you lock us in here for that?"

"It's top secret," Donna said. "Word gets out, and more people could be in danger.  We've got escorts cancelling appointments to be safe, but we needed you to be alerted before whoever is behind the killing is."

John noticed Rose's stoic expression and sensed she wouldn't be moving by herself.  He took her gently by the arm, surprised when she didn't shake him off, and led her from the room. 

This was not going to be an easy first day.


	3. Chapter 3

They walked back to their desks, and John, trying to shake the tension, spoke first, holding the filed in a vice grip.  

"Do you want to talk about this over breakfast?" he asked quickly, as though afraid if he talked slowly to her something would happen.  "We could go down to a cafe and look through the files in more detail."

Rose looked up at him and her lip quirked slightly.   "Are you a messy eater?"

He grinned at her.  "Not breakfast foods."

"Well, I say we go, then," She took up her briefcase and opened it before reaching for the files.  "Give them here, wouldn't want them to get flattened."  He watched as she slid the flies carefully into her briefcase.  "We'll take my car."

"Alright."

He had really accepted her ride without a protest of his car being better or him wanting to drive.  The notion puzzled her, but she said nothing about it, only nodded curtly and started walking ahead of him towards the front of the building.  She didn't give him time to follow, only trusted that he would, based on what she already knew about him. She could hear his feet scuffing along the floor behind her and was reassured by the sound. 

John followed her right out to her car, as was expected, and got into the passenger's side wordlessly.  She handed him her briefcase and he settled it carefully at his feet as she got in and started the car. 

"This is none of my business," he said softly, "Your past is none of my business."

"You're right," she said, slipping on her sunglasses and pulling them out of the lot.  "It's not."

He watched her carefully.  "I know," he continued, "But I want you to know that... I mean, we don't know each other, but I'll support you... Through this."

It was a delightfully awkward statement, but there was so much earnest energy put into it that she couldn't keep her heart from swelling with something akin to joy.  Aside from her mother, there hadn't been many people, since she had made some pretty terrible mistakes, that had been there for her when she needed them.  To be quite honest, she wasn't even sure why Mickey had stayed.  She had been awful to him and was sure that sooner or later, he'd do a runner.  He hadn't yet, even though they were no longer a couple. 

"Well, thank you," she said, trying to keep any and all emotion out of her voice.  She tucked hair that wasn't really out of place behind her ear, a nervous tick that got to her at the best of times.  "I mean it."

He seemed happy with that outcome and fell silent.  The only sound was other cars on the motorway then, as she directed them towards the nearest cafe she knew served breakfast foods.  She didn't' eat breakfast much, too much to do, but she was surprised to find her stomach growling in protest at her decisions.   Maybe it was about time some of her lifestyle choices changed.  

She tapped her fingers along the steering wheel in time with the radio, studiously ignoring the man next to her. She could tell he wanted to talk, and that eventually, he would, but she wasn't sure she wanted to talk to him just yet. 

Her body was processing the news of the murder even as her mind had already finished and filed it away for later.  It made her bones feel cold and a weight set in the pit of her stomach.  It was too close, really too close, and she couldn't be bothered to think about just how similar... Well, that was besides the point. 

What _was_ the point was that she had a very good looking man in her car with her, about to have breakfast with him, and not a clue what to do with him at all.  She let out a long sigh and turned into the lot of the tiny cafe.  It was surprising it had any lot at all, given at how infrequent visitation there was.  How it even stayed open, Rose didn't know, but it was a little place called Gallifrey that people either loved or despised.  Rose loved it.  She found she didn't know if her companion did or not.  She shut the car off and leaned back in her seat, regarding him carefully. 

"Do you hate this place?" She asked bluntly, trying not to fidget with her hands. 

He looked at it with squinted eyes, more concentration than scrutiny.  "I was banned for a little while," he turned his face to her and grinned widely.  "Not anymore, though, and their French toast is truly brilliant."

She laughed and got out of the car, trusting him once again to follow.  He did and they walked into the cafe side by side, the smell of fresh coffee the first thing that Rose smelled or even felt when they entered. 

"A table for two, please," John politely told the hostess while she had been distracted.  True, it had been ages since she'd last been here, so maybe that's why it drew her attention so fully, but she didn't think she was that distracted of a person.  Frustrated with herself, she followed John and the hostess back in the cafe. 

The woman might have sensed they were on business, based on their attire and the carrying of a briefcase, but whatever the reason was, they were being seated in the very back left corner next to a window.  John pulled back a chair for her and sat in the other one.  

"I like seeing the door," he explained, pointing to show her that he had the better vantage point. "Makes me feel safer, I guess."

She scratched the side of her nose and nodded.  He was clever, this one, not some bumbling idiot that Donna had picked up along the way.  She pulled the file from her briefcase.  "Ready?" she said, setting it on the table.  

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her a little sheepishly.  "I thought maybe we could talk a bit first.  I don't know a thing about you, Rose, and you know less than that about me."

"Maybe the best way to get to know someone is threw actions and not words," Rose replied simply, opening the file. 

He shocked her, and not really for the first time, by shutting her file.  He leaned over the table.  "Rose, it strikes me that human companionship is not your best strength."

She narrowed her eyes in him.  "I don't see how it's any of your business, but no, people aren't my favorite."

"You're very kind," he said softly, "Even if you try not to be, even if you think you're not.  That's what I've gathered of you. Now, what have you got on me.  You're a detective, go on."

Rose studied his face, the excited lines of his features and the light that danced in his eyes, probably even when they were closed.  She leaned her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand.  "Are you sure that's all you've deduced about me, Sarge?"

He laughed, a becoming sound that, she was repulsed to find, filled her with warmth.  He shook his head.  "Oh, no, I have more.  I want to hear what you think first."

She decided to oblige him, he was her partner after all, and hummed softly, as though considering.  "You're impulsive," she told him finally.  "You see something that needs to get done, a case that needs solved, and you jump on it.  Once you have something in your grasp you're a dog with a bone.  You try to be kind but you sometimes snap at people and you never wear the right shoes."

His eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled, giving him an even more affectionate looking face.  Of course, that was foolish, he could not feel any affection for her, that was ridiculous, not to mention something that would not be recommended between coworkers.  She nodded at him, as though gesturing for him to go on. 

"Alright, alright," he relented.  "You are not a gentle soul, but you used to be.  Things have happened to you... They make you close people out," his eyes searched hers and she found that she could not quite look away.  "But you love people, even though you pretend you don't.  You want friends.  You are positively _brilliant,_ in addition to all that."  He paused, less of a specific thing and more of a hesitation, as though he was about to say something that would ruin everything.  "You're rather beautiful as well, but that's really not any of my business."

Rose blinked.  It had been absolute ages since a man had called her beautiful, and she wanted to respond, wanted to thank him, but just as she was opening her mouth, their waitress approached to take their order.  She slumped back in her seat and said that John would be taking her order.  He got the same thing for both of them, promising her that if she didn't like anything, he would send it back.  She offered him a rather genuine smile and nodded.  

Once the waitress was gone, she flipped open the file.  "Yeah, alright, here we go," she held her finger on the first page of the file.  "Grace Clint.  Who would've wanted to kill a whore?"

John flinched at the word.  "That's a little harsh," he said softly. 

"It's semantics," she waved him off.  "What do you know about Rassilon?"

"Not much more than you do," he leaned on the table as well.  "Just what I told you back at the station.  He's ruthless, but I've never heard of something quite this vulgar from him." He tilted his head.  "Saxon is... A fair contender."

Rose grunted, flipping past the picture of grace to the file for Saxon.  "Well, it might not be either of them," she said, "Saxon takes pride in his work.  Why not this?"

"Because it's a murder."  John replied, pointing out a rather valid fact. "He's never killed before, at least, not to our knowledge.  That's almost too cocky for him.  And I _know_ his work, am very familiar with it, in fact."

Rose read him like a book with that statement and stared at him until he met her gaze.  "You knew him," she said. It wasn't a question. 

John nodded tersely.  "We grew up together, in school.  We were always on opposite ends of the law, so to speak.  He got in trouble quite a lot."

"Guess you should've seen that coming."

"Suppose, but I was young," he lifted a shoulder.  "We all do stupid things when we're young, Rose.  I followed him because he was my best friend, not to mention the only friend I had.  What else was I supposed to do?"

Rose bit her lip, nodding slightly.  "I guess that's fair," she said.  "But do you really think-"

"Shut the file," John interrupted her gently as the waitress returned with two plates of food for them.

She slid it back in her briefcase, thinking they had quite enough information to go off of for the time being.  They thanked the waitress and tucked in, Rose not realizing how famished she was until a cold glass of milk and a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast was set before her.  John seemed to watch her carefully as she ate, as though making sure she liked everything.  She nodded at him to give him a bit of reassurance, and that seemed to calm him. 

"Thank goodness you're not a vegetarian," he said, "I would've really messed up big time."

She laughed, marveling at how much she had been doing just that.  It was incredible, really, considering it had been so long since she done it with such frequency.  "I guess so.  Luckily for you, I'm not."

He smiled at her.  "Yeah.  I think, Rose Tyler, that it will be my pleasure to know you."

She shook her head, a little regretfully.  "You say that now," she told him, "But people don't like me."

"I like you."

"You just met me.  I'll bet you like everyone."

He wrinkled his nose.  "I do not."

She grinned and took another bite of her bacon.  "I think I know where to start, on Grace's case."

"And where's that?"

"This madame named Stephanie.  She keeps things pretty low-key in her operation. If Donna tried to find her last night, she wouldn't have."

John quirked an eyebrow at her, obviously intrigued by her mystery.  "And how do you know that?"

She threw him a wink and surprised herself with it.  "I have my ways."

He waggled his eyebrows at her.  "I think you may be onto something, Rose Tyler.  Hurry up, tuck in, now I really would like to see where this is headed."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally turned this into a Secret Diary AU as well? A crossover? Either way, I hope you guys don't hate it!
> 
> AS ALWAYS, none of my fics are mature or explicit, and this is no exception. Anything that is mentioned will be mentioned in the vague sort of way that it is in this chapter. If you have any concerns, let me know!
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Rose didn't need directions to Stephanie's main spot, where she met up with her girls.  She rattled off the name of a posh restaurant and hopped into her car, barely waiting for John before taking off.  She could tell he found it odd, could tell that he wanted to say something, and didn't.  That, she was rather glad for. 

She tapped her thumbs nervously on the steering wheel, humming a mindless tune to try and calm herself.  This was ridiculous.  She was here on work, or was about to be.  Whether or not she was driving slowly to delay the obvious, well, how would anyone be able to tell?

"How do you know Stephanie will be in?" John asked. 

"She's got a deal with the owner of the restaurant," Rose said, "They keep out of each other's business, and she gets an office in the back."

Luckily, it was not necessary to meet Stephanie in her office.  Rose clutched her briefcase with a vice grip as she entered the restaurant.  John found the inexplicable need to hold her hand to soothe her.  Instead of doing that, though, he clenched his hands in fists at his side. That was a very rude thought, he managed to scold himself.

A host dressed in black tie attire, odd for it being so early, smiled at them warmly.  "Are you here for an early bird lunch?"

"I'm here to see Stephanie, Bert," Rose blurted out.  "Is she here?"

The host's face schooled into something more professional.  "Yes, miss.  Right this way."  

Of course.  He assumed they were both escorts.  Rose pursed her lips, knowing exactly why she knew the host and why he knew her.  She suspected that the pieces were clicking into place for John as well and felt humiliation seep through her at the very notion. 

Bert led them through the restaurant to a back circular booth.  There sat Stephanie with several young women around her, their outfits designer suits, a look Rose knew and still wore all too often.  Even if it was for a very different occasion.  

"Stephanie," Rose said curtly, lifting her chin in what she hoped was defiance. 

Stephanie looked up, her dark hair curling around her face, making her look soft and dainty.  She smiled.  "Oh, Belle!  You're back."

"No I'm not, I need to talk to you.  May I speak with you for a moment, please?"

"Go to my office," Stephanie waved her off, "I'll be with you in a moment."

Rose nodded again and turned on her heel, weaving back through the rest of the restaurant to a back office.  She opened the door and gestured for John to enter.  He gave her a curious look and entered before she followed, shutting the door behind them.

The office was pink and gaudy and so were the pink, plush chairs that sat before Stephanie's mahogany desk.  Rose set her briefcase at her side and sat in one of the chairs, the left one, and John automatically sat in the right.

"I don't know why she gave us this case," Rose said, rubbing her forehead.  "Your second day with me and you find out that I'm-"

"A brilliant detective who brought us to the exactly right place."  He cut her off and fixed her with a firm but kind gaze.  

She felt her mouth open in shock.  "You don't... My past, I'm-"

"Just being here makes you uncomfortable, Rose," he said, leaning towards her slightly.  "That's enough to prove to me that you didn't want to be there."

"No, I didn't," Rose replied, lacing her fingers together in her lap.  He reached over and touched her arm gently. 

"Rose.  I'm not... I don't know, upset with you.  I'm sure none of this was your fault.  You had your reasons, and you're out of it.  And you're a brilliant, not to mention lovely detective.  I think that's enough for me to know."

Rose chewed her lip before looking over at him and meeting his gaze.  "My dad left my mum in a lot of debt when he died," she said softly, "Once I was old enough, I had to do something."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"I would have done anything for my parents," he said. 

"Are they-"

Just then the door swung open and Stephanie entered in all her glory, slamming the door behind her and smiling.  "Now, Belle, what can I do for you?"  She sauntered around the side of the desk and threw herself into her swivel chair, and though Rose could tell her smile was genuine, she didn't want it.  

"It's just Rose now.  Rose Tyler."

"Well, that suits you better anyway," Stephanie waved her off.  "How have you been?"

"Just fine.  I'm a detective now."

Stephanie grinned, "Oh, good for you!  You were always very good at investigating," she turned her attention to John, "You know, she saved at least three girls from painful deaths.  Some people slip right through the cracks."  As though remembering something, her eyes widened and she turned back to Rose.  "You wouldn't turn me in, would you?  Get me arrested?"

"No, Stephanie," Rose replied calmly.  "Not if you answer all our questions."

Stephanie's brow furrowed prettily.  "Alright, then.  Go on."

John held his hand out for the files, and Rose took them from her briefcase to hand to him.  He thanked her quietly under his breath and pulled out the photo of Grace.  "Do you know this woman?"

"Yes," Stephanie nodded.  "Yes, she goes by Lady, though.  I can't say I ever knew her real name, well, I wasn't supposed to.  You're here about her death?"

"Yes.  Her real name was Grace Clint.  So you're her madame?" John asked.

"Her _employer,_ and yes," Stephanie nodded.  "She was a sweet girl.  Just trying to get through Uni, just like Belle-sorry, Rose, was, back in the day.  Of course, everyone has other things to say about their issues and why they work for me, but more than typically, they're all the same."

"Did she give you the all-clear call?" Rose asked, leaning forward in her seat. 

Stephanie nodded.  "She did, otherwise I'd have sent the cavalry over right away," She crossed her arms in finality."

"Did she sound odd, over the phone?" John pressed, not wanting to finish up their questioning that easily.  There were too many loose ends.

"Fine, yeah," Stephanie replied, "She was not a nervous woman, wouldn't be so without cause, and I knew that.  This was a new client, though."

"Was he checked out by the agency?" Rose jumped on the question. 

Stephanie looked so insulted that John jumped a little bit.  Her eyes were like fire why she looked back to Rose. "You know better that anyone that I did.  We all did.  I have done the best I could to protect my girls, and I am sorry about what happened to Lady... Grace.   _Grace._ But you must know I would have taken care of her better, if I could have."

Rose slumped back in her seat.  "I do."

"Not everyone is as lucky as you, Belle," Stephanie said, not even having the presence of mind to censor herself or try to remember Rose's real name.  John could tell that she as well was past fixating on such matters.

"I know that," Rose said earnestly, "That's why I"m trying so hard to find out what happened to Grace so that it doesn't happen to anybody else."

Stephanie smiled, much gentler than she had been before.  "Of course.  You're a noble woman.  I'd like to be like you."

"Thank you," Rose said, looking away in embarrassment. 

John sensed that the conversation was turning to something he wasn't sure how to follow, and cleared his throat.  He shifted in his seat as both women focused their attention back on him.  "If you know anything else about Grace... A list of her clients, anything, it would be much appreciated."

"I can give you a list of her clients, but only because you're police, and because she's dead," Stephanie shook her finger at the both of them.  

"Even then, you usually wouldn't do this," Rose said, furrowing her bros in confusion.

"You're different," Stephanie promised, "And I think you know you are, too."  

She rummaged through a couple of her drawers for a moment, and even in that moment the silence between the three of them was deafening.  She finally pulled out a black notebook and hastily copied down names onto another piece of paper.

"Here," She said, shoving it at them.  "Take it, stick it in your file, whatever, but I will deny anything if any cops that aren't you come around here."

"Yes, ma'am," Rose said, taking the sheet and placing it in the file before depositing it back in her briefcase.  "That was all her regulars, yeah?"

"The left column is her regulars, the right is the one-timers that found another lady and never came back."

"Thank you," Rose got to her feet, as did Stephanie and John.  Rose stuck out her hand awkwardly and Stephanie shook it.  She did the same with John.  

"We'll come back if we need anything else," John said, his tone all business.  "Thank you for being so cooperative."

Stephanie offered Rose a small smile.  "Anything for an old friend," she said.  "Now, go on.  I'm sure you've got more work to do, and so do I."

She shooed them out of her office and Rose and John quickly departed form the restaurant.  

"I wasn't sure we'd catch her," Rose said, feeling the stirrings of a ramble lighting up her stomach.  "I thought she'd be in in the morning, it's just more discreet you know, and that operation-"

"Runs on a discreet nature," John cut her off calmly.  "I've been a detective for eight years now, Rose, I do know a thing or two about this industry."

Rose huffed.

"I wasn't insinuating I knew more than anybody else," he replied. 

"I'm sorry," She said, "I didn't mean to be insensitive."

John opened her car door for her, a gesture that both surprised and flattered her.  "You are not insensitive," he let her know easily.  

She ducked into the car and pulled the door shut before he could shut it for her.  He jerked back and walked around the front of the car to his seat.  When he finally made it, she had put her indifferent mask back on and he had no way to crack it.  He sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest.  "Back to the station?" He asked, watching her closely.

When she looked back at him, her eyes were close to glazed with her efforts to hide her emotion from him.  She nodded. "Yes.  I want to go through these clients first.  Then we can start interviewing them directly."

"Some of them, though... Going to their houses..."

"Some of them are not honest men," Rose said coldly, starting the car almost violently.  "Some of them are pigs and fiends, and we'll have to distinguish between them and the guy that's... Well, our guy."

John jerked back in his seat and she pumped the gas.  He shifted and buckled up, trying to keep himself alive in time to get back to the station.  

He knew it would be best now not to try and start conversation with her.  He had just been let in on a part of her life, her past, that he had never been meant to see.  The notion of that alone surely made her uncomfortable, and why wouldn't it?  Had it been anyone he could have guessed had that life, his reaction would have been very different.  But Rose, she was so clever, and kind, in her own way.  She had opened up a few times in the short time he'd known her, and he knew she deserved that sort of free feeling in her mind all the time.  

Again, he was struck with the urge to hold her hand.  He thought better of it though.  Better to never touch her against her will or without her knowing.  He was struck by her cleverness, though.  It was impossible not to be.  The speed with which she had deduced had left him reeling, and in a very good way. 

When she caught him looking at her, he forced himself to look away from her.  Yes, he thought mournfully, he was probably well on his way to infatuation.

Rose, on the other hand, was not quite as frozen on the inside as she was supposed to be.  Her past bothered her, but it was just that, the past.  It was over and done with, and now she could use that past to help keep other people from getting hurt.  She was _made_ to be a detective.  And she had been made for this case. 

It was exhilarating, going to Stephanie and telling her no, she wasn't Belle.  Her family was free of debt and she was _free._

She felt herself swell with just the tiniest bit of happiness, and she turned to John once they reached a red light.  He returned her gaze innocently and she offered him a smile.  He grinned back at her, full force, making her laugh. 

If he could make her laugh, there was a good chance that this was a partnership that could last.  And it all started with this case.


	5. Chapter 5

John and Rose took themselves to an empty conference room in the station, a telephone pulled over to the table and their files spread all over.  They'd both taken off their jackets and Rose's hair was starting to come out of her half-updo.  She pulled out the paper with the names of the clients written on it. 

"Okay," Rose leaned her chin in her hand.  "First.  Adam."  She looked at the phone number and John studied her curiously. 

"You know him?"

Rose made a 'so-so' sound in the back of her throat.  "Kinda," she said, lifting a shoulder.  "I met him once, sort of on accident.  Good guy.  No trouble."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah.  He's happy and gentle."  She chewed her lip and looked up at him.  "You can say it you know," she said bluntly, an edge creeping back into her voice.  

John looked genuinely confused at her words and furrowed his brows at her.  "What?"

"You're sorry your new partner was a whore," she said sharply, then put her head in her hand, the other one still holding the paper.  "I never wanted anyone to find out."

He wanted to reach out and touch her, to rub her back soothingly or just lay it there in reassurance that he was there, with her, and wasn't upset with her past.  How could he be?  IT wasn't as though it was her fault.   

The air was still around them, the only sound the rumbling of the air conditioner in the corner.  He slowly reached out towards her and laid his hand over the one on the paper, forcing her knuckles to connect with the table.  "I do not define you as your past," he promised.  "Donna didn't know that you would know Stephanie.  I didn't know. But it's helped us."

She looked at him, a mournful expression on her face, the most expressive he'd seen her.  The mask of indifference settled itself firmly back over her features and she snorted.  "I'm tainted."

"You're brilliant," he replied with conviction.  "And that's all that matters now."

He removed his hand slowly from hers, sensing a sort of discomfort in him touching her. He shouldn't have done that, he supposed, but the urge to touch her was strong and oddly there.  He cleared his throat.  "So, Adam is safe."

Rose nodded.  "Yeah."  She took a pen from a cup on the table and scratched out his name and phone number.  

It went on like that, scratching out names Rose knew, people she had come into contact with, well, one way or another.  Most of them were good men, and it seemed to frustrate her.  It was when they got to the list of men who had only paid for Grace a handful of times, some only once.  

Rose heaved out a heavy sigh.  "I wish the dates were on this," she said, "That would get us as close as possible."

"Would Stephanie have them?" John asked, already setting about getting up.

Rose shook her head and he flopped back down.  "No," she said reluctantly.  "She doesn't keep a record of dates and times, there's no way she would ever need to reproduce them.  Well, unless it's a situation like this, and those are pretty rare.  Escorting is incredibly safe, these days."

John took the paper from her and scanned his eyes over the list.  "Is it possible that any of these men had aliases?  Like Grace did?"

She nodded.  "I guess.  It's not common.  People pay with cash, and that's usually enough confidentiality."

She fell silent, her brows drawn together in concentration.  John watched her think.  It was easy to try and read her when she was like this, her eyes focused and set, her teeth near marring her bottom lip.  He swallowed heavily and forced himself to look back at her eyes.  Finally, after several minutes of patient waiting, she looked back up at him. 

"Isn't Rassilon an alias all by itself?"

He nodded. 

"Okay," she said it more to herself then to him.  "Okay, so that means one of these normal names could've been him.  If it was him, that is."

"That's true."

"There's numbers for all these people," she said, folding the paper over so only the men they were unsure of faced up.  "Now, we're going to have to start calling some numbers.  And I'm going to have to embarrass myself."

She said the last bit so quietly that she knew John didn't understand what she'd said, even if he'd heard it.  She smiled sheepishly at him.  "I'm going to have to pretend to call as a replacement."

John nodded, unfazed.  "Alright."

She picked up the receiver of the phone they'd pulled over.  Glancing down at the first name, she dialed in the number and pressed the speaker button before laying the receiver down on the table.  The phone rang once, twice, and then someone picked up the phone with a cheerful "hello?" 

"Hi," Rose's voice had gone up a bit in pitch and her accent had changed to something more posh and less of her original South London.  John gave her a startled look as she continued.  "This is Bell de Jour."

"I don't know a Belle de Jour," he said in confusion. 

"No, you don't.  I'm from Stephanie's agency.  I know you met with Lady a time or two, and i was to give you a call.  You're George, yeah?"

"Oh," the man's voice was soft and sad.  "Yes, I am, but... I'm not looking for anybody else.  Thank Stephanie for me, will you?"

Rose looked over at John and mouthed 'we'll bring backup' before addressing the man on the other end of the phone again.  "How about we meet up just once, just in case?"

"That's alright, Belle.  Thank you for the offer, but I really just... Don't want anything right now.  Maybe if I call you in a few months?"

"Sure, George.  Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She sighed heavily and hung up.  John scratched his head, ruffling his hair further, and turned to Rose.  "He seemed torn up about it.  Genuinely."

Rose nodded.  "Yeah, he sort of did.  But, you know, I'd kind of like to trace the call and go there anyway."

"Well, let's go ahead and call through some more of these first, don't you think?  There was no reason for that guy to not want to meet with you unless he was genuinely upset."

She set her lips in a thin line but nodded curtly.  "Alright," she said tightly. 

They continued to call, and people were either terribly, terribly interested in meeting with Rose, or Belle, or they wanted to call through Stephanie and Rose had to hastily tell them not to.  None were quite as odd as George.  Rose finally set the phone down and leaned back in her chair, groaning in frustration.  

"None of them seem odd," she cried out in frustration.  "How are we supposed to find this person?  There's no one even similar to Rassilon or Saxon.  Nothing!"

John watched her patiently, trying not to feed off of her frustration.  "I know," he said softly.  "Maybe we should trace George's call?"

Rose nodded.  "Okay."

"You know, he's the only one that reacted in a way that you wouldn't expect when it comes to a call girl."  John winced at his choice of words but Rose wasn't upset.  She simply nodded, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Yeah," she said.  "Guess we'd better take care of that, then."

John went to Donna about tracing the call.  Donna had eyed them dubiously but had decided it was in the best interest of the case to trace the call.  

The line of the call took them all the way to a posh penthouse that made Rose widen her eyes.  "Whoa," she said as they looked up the address.

"What?" John asked, itching for any information she had. 

"He's _loaded,"_ she said, laughing.  "We'll have to be invited up."

John tugged the lapels of his jacket, a little smugly, and sniffed.  "Well, we can get a warrant."

"On what grounds?" Rose asked.  She shook her head. "No, I'm going to have to play the Belle De Jour card again.  Just to get us up there.  Let's go."

She put her blazer back on and they walked out to Rose's car.  Wordlessly, John gave her control, let her drive.  Though he held the car door for her again, making her glance up at him in confusion before getting in the car.  It made her feel odd, though not uncomfortable, that he was doing kind things for her simply because.  Men didn't typically do that for her.  She was too stiff and too professional to be seen as a woman.  

He fell into the passenger's seat and blew out what she supposed was a sigh of relief.  He buckled his seat belt and looked at her expectantly.  She blinked and started up the car as John plugged in George's address to the GPS. 

They didn't speak on the way there, though that was mostly Rose's doing.  She felt as though she might want to talk to him.  He was good conversation, good company, and from what she knew, a damn good detective.  The most frustrating part was that he was good looking. 

She didn't speak as they got out of the car and approached the place where they could call up to George.  She pressed the button to buzz up and looked up and groaned.  

"Oh, no," she pointed up to the camera.

John clasped his hands behind his back.  "Well, I guess pretending isn't an option anymore, eh?'

Grumbling to herself, Rose pulled out her badge and held it in her right hand, preparing to flash it.  A voice came through the intercom. 

"Who are you?"

John leaned into the camera's line of sight and grinned.  "Belle De Jour.  Let us up?"  Beside him, Rose held up her badge.  

"Okay," George said weakly, and buzzed them up.  

They were allowed up into his penthouse, which Rose would've called a flat were it any smaller.  The place was almost entirely windows and expensive furniture, a massive television on one end of the room.  George stood in the middle of the living room, looking uncomfortable. 

He was a young man, maybe twenty four or so.  He had sandy blonde hair and green eyes, and looked incredibly innocent.  But Rose knew from experience that looking like innocence didn't mean it was quite true.  Rose walked toward him and extended her hand to him.  "Rose Tyler, Detective with the London police."

George reached out cautiously and shook her hand.  John said his own title and shook George's hand as well.  He seemed afraid, afraid to look at them or get too close. 

"We're not here to hurt you," John promised.  "You may have guessed it was us who called you?"

George nodded slowly.  "Yes."

"You were the only one who reacted with genuine concern for Lady.  Her real name was Grace, you know."  John said the words softly, as though easing him into the news.  

"I know," he said softly, his gaze falling to his feet.

Rose furrowed her brows.  "Wait, how could you possibly know that?"

George lifted his eyes, "Do you want some tea?  We can discuss this further if you want."

Within minutes they were all sat in the living room, tea mugs in hand, Rose's knuckles white with the effort of holding all her questions back.  John, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxation.  He lay back, his arm along the back of the sofa.  George seemed on edge as well, though not quite as much as much as Rose.  

"Grace Clint was killed-" John began, but George held up his hand to stop him, a pained look in his eyes. 

"I know," he whispered, "If there is anybody who knows, it's me.  Her mother called me in hysterics the night she found out."

"You were a client?"  Rose blurted out.

George rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.  "It was a bit more than that, actually.  I had scheduled an appointment with her because I never _saw_ her."

"And you usually did?" Rose arched her brow.  "Mothers don't call their daughter's clients."

"Rose," John said warningly. 

"I wasn't just her bloody client!" George said, setting down his tea mug and carding his hands through his hair, frustration and grief radiating off of every part of him.  Rose shrank back a bit to give him space and accidentally ran right into John's side.  She shot forwards again and sat straight as a board, her professionalism back in tact. 

"Then what were you?" Rose demanded. 

"I was her fiancé!" He shouted, breathing heavily.  "Grace and I were supposed to be married."


	6. Chapter 6

Rose felt her mouth open in shock.  She was accustomed to hiding her reactions to shocking things, but something like this was nearly unheard of, especially to her.  John also seemed shocked, but not enough to keep himself from speaking.  Unbidden, the thought of him taking the lead on this case made her angry, frustration bubbling up in her stomach. 

"Grace was your..." John cleared his throat.  "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Yeah, well," George sniffed and looked away.  "She didn't deserve this.  I was scheduling appointments with her because I just wanted to see her.  She was so busy all the time we could never meet up.  She could barely find the time for me to take her to dinner."

Rose furrowed her brows but was still beyond the point of speaking.  John, on the other hand, leaned forward, intrigued.  "So, did you know anything about the job she was going on the night of her death?"

George looked insulted, raising his eyebrows at John.  "Excuse me?  You're really going to ask me about the night of her death?"

"Do you want to find the person that killed her?"

John's words brought down a crushing silence that Rose couldn't even begin to comprehend. George clenched his jaw, clearly angry, or trying not to cry.  Both expressions were frighteningly similar, in her experience.  She wanted to comfort him, but found so many emotions warring within her that she could do nothing but wring her own hands in her lap.  

George swallowed heavily and met John's gaze.  "Of course I want to.  Whoever did it should pay, and I don't mean rot in prison for life.  He should die."

Rose arched a brow as John spoke again.  "So you'll answer our questions?"

Although it was posed as an inquiry, it was clear that it was more of a gentle command from John.  George nodded slowly.  They were all quiet for a moment, and after that fleeting time John sighed heavily. 

"I'll ask again, then.  Did you know anything about her job that night?"

George shook his head.  "She didn't talk about it," he said quietly, "She kept it to herself, didn't want me to know," he huffed out a laugh.  "It was almost like if she didn't talk about it, it was like she belonged to me."

"It's hard for women like that to retain relationships," Rose said coldly, "Usually, they have to choose between the job and a relationship.  She was trying to juggle both, and was apparently doing it rather successfully."

"She was going to quit," George said sharply, watching Rose and not paying attention to John's worried glance at her.  He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, trying to compose himself.  "She was going to quit.  For me.  For both of us.  Not many people actually like that job."

Rose cracked her knuckles, a nervous motion that would have betrayed herself were they around some sort of threat.  However, they weren't, and maybe she felt perhaps a bit too comfortable.  "Yeah, well, she obviously was trying to find a way out."

"She was."

"So you don't know anything?"

"If I knew anything, I would've told the police already," George said, an earnest look in his eyes.  "I told you, I want this guy found.  I'm going to be involved in this, as much as I can."

John nodded and got to his feet.  Rose and George followed before John stuck his hand out to George.  "Thank you for your time," he said, "And we truly are very sorry."

Rose shook his hand as well but said nothing.  They walked out of the flat without another word, Rose a few paces ahead of John.  It was clear, to her at least, that she wanted to be left alone, and she hoped that John would catch onto that.  He seemed to be making an effort to catch up to her, but it was a half hearted one, as he could have definitely caught up to her if he'd tried. He had rather long legs after all. 

She blew out a sigh.  She liked working alone. She _liked_ being the sole force on a case, and she wasn't about to admit that she needed John to held her with this one.  If anything, this was one she definitely could've done by herself, considering, but she kept getting tongue-tied and uncomfortable.  

There was no reason for them to look at anything else today, to chase after any leads.  She felt sick, had a splitting headache, and just wanted to go home.  She turned to John when the reached the car.  "I'll drop you off at the station," she said, "I'm going home."

He furrowed his brows in concern and took a step closer to her.  "You don't look so well," he said, raising his hand to press his wrist to her forehead.  "I think you'd better get some sleep, Rose, we'll start fresh tomorrow."

"Yeah, I think that's for the best."

"Do you want me to drive?"

"I still have to drive back to my flat, regardless."

"Doesn't matter.  Maybe you can nap a bit." 

He held his hands out for her keys and she was, for some reason, loath to refuse his offer.  She sighed heavily and dropped them into his hand with a light jingling sound.  He thanked her with a nod and opened the passenger door for her.  She murmured something that might have been assent before getting in, buckling up and leaning back in her seat.  She barely waited for him to get in the car and start it before she felt her eyes drift closed.

"Rose?" His voice reached her in a tentative sort of way. 

"Mm?"

"I know this is hard for you," he said softly, "You'll pretend it's not, I can already tell, with the way you are.  I don't know you well, but you can't just... I dunno, let yourself not feel anything."

"I feel things just fine."

"Do you?" She could hear his earnest tone and opened her eyes to regard him.  She searched his dark eyes, the way they looked, the way they seemed to bore into her with something akin to concern.  She scrunched her forehead up.  He had no right to be concerned for her.  He didn't even know her. 

"John, in our line of work, it's not about feeling things," she said.  "It's about closing off so we can help others.  You've been a detective for what, eight years?  So you should know that better than me."

He leaned onto the center console, close to her.  "That's not true and you know it.  Our job is about helping people find peace through our work.  That is filled with emotions and feelings and things that I have a feeling disgust you.  We can't hide from each other, Rose.  You and I are detectives, and we live to read people."

Rose swallowed, his words making her feel oddly warm.  She couldn't think of anything else to say, really didn't want to say anything else at all, and she closed her eyes to shut him out.  He took the hint, sighing softly in frustration, before turning the key in the ignition.  

She wasn't going to let him close, she promised herself.  He wasn't allowed, that couldn't _happen._ If he got close, if anyone got close, she was done for, and she knew that.  There were parts of her that were not o belong to a man, and that included her emotions.  After doing what she had done, she didn't want a relationship, even if she pretended she did with Jack when he teased her about it.  Donna even told her that she needed to go on a date.  

But it wasn't about a man.  If Rose admitted it to herself (which she never would) she was lonely, aching to fill a hole in her life with friends and a--God forbid-- a boyfriend.  She wanted a husband.  She wanted a family.  But she knew she deserved none of those things and would never ask for it of anybody.  

She felt drawn to John and so she decided to pull away.  At breakfast, he had felt like an old friend.  That in itself was ridiculous.  She shifted in her seat, and though she didn't fall asleep, her eyes being closed kept John quiet, for which she was grateful.  She had a feeling he was not the type to keep his mouth shut. 

***

He 'woke' her when they were back at the station and she pretended that she had been asleep.  He got out of the car and stood by the door, and it was clear to her now what he was doing.  Must he insist on holding every bloody door for her every bloody time?  She sighed heavily and climbed out the passenger side to go to the other side.  He opened the door for her and she climbed in.  

"Thanks," she said, buckling her seat belt.  She tried to pull the door shut but he was holding it. 

"Maybe we should meet up for dinner," he said, squatting at her side, "Tomorrow night, after we do more case work?  I think it would be beneficial for us to get to know each other better."

"I thought you could read me," she snapped, growing impatient and wanting to just take off, to drive away and leave him behind, at least for a little while.  

"I can," he admitted, "The superficial things.  That doesn't tell me about you, Rose."

"You don't need to know about me."

"We're partners," he said, his voice turning firm, his eyes closing off.  Any 'in' he was giving her into his mind was shut right out and she briefly mourned the loss.  He continued, "I know you don't think you need people, but you do.  And if we're going to work together, we can't come in to the station every day pretending to meet for the first time again."

"I never said that," she replied.  

"I'll send you my address," he said, looking at his watch.  "It's four o' clock now.  Is that when you usually leave for the day?"

"Usually."

"Six to four.  That's eleven hours.  That'll give you an hour to rest before you come to dinner at mine at six."

"I never said yes."

"I never said that no was an option," he snapped, "And I think Donna would agree with me."  He softened a bit.  "I think it would be beneficial, Rose.  I'm not going to jump you or anything, if that's what you're concerned about."

Rose swallowed, shocked by his tone and his honesty.  "I wasn't," she whispered.

"I refuse to base what I know about you on your past," he told her, as though she hadn't spoken at all.  "I want to know you for the woman you are _now._  You may struggle to get past it, but I think we need to know each other as we are in the present.  Who we are in the day-by-day.  Yeah?"

"Maybe," she said curtly, as though she couldn't think of anything else to say.  She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of 'winning' this conversation, even though it wasn't even really an argument.  She put the key back in the ignition and looked at him pointedly.  

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said.  "Bright and early, six o' clock."

"Yeah."

He stood and watched to make sure all her limbs were firmly in the car before shutting the door on her.  She grumbled to herself as she started the car and pulled out of the lot without even looking back at him.  She knew he was standing there, could practically feel him looking at her. 

Well, she didn't need anyone to worry about her.  She was a grown woman, and no one had cared about her when it counted, so here she was, lost in her self pity and trying to cover it by solving other people's tragedies.  That was what she was good at and it would do her well to remember that at all costs. 

She got home and could barely find the will to make herself a sandwich, but she did so anyway, watching telly as she ate it and ignoring her cell phone.  As promised, John had sent her his address and she was studiously avoiding the information.  It was unnecessary, she told herself.  She would decide if she was actually going to his for dinner the next day. 

There was a hesitance in her when it came to calling her mother, which she knew she had to do, only because she didn't want to pick up the phone.  She finally sighed and did so, clearing through John's two messages without even reading them.  She dialed in her mum's number and sat back on the couch, waiting patiently.

"Hello, sweetheart!" Jackie Tyler's voice echoed happily into Rose's ear, and she couldn't help but smile.  

"Hi, Mum."

"And what are you up to?  Not still at work, are you?"

"No."

Rose told her mother about the new partner that was forced upon her, and his excessive need to read her and figure out what she was all about.  She trailed off when she heard her mother laughing at her over the phone.

"What?" Rose whined.

"I think you better give this man a chance, Rose," Jackie replied, "You said he invited you to dinner?" 

"More like he demanded me to dinner," Rose mumbled. 

"Well, he's your coworker, even closer than that!  You've got to see his rotten self every day, so you might as well get to know each other.  You might end up friends, Rose."

She said the last part so quietly that Rose wondered if her mother was concerned for her lack of friendships just as much as Donna was.  She swallowed heavily and nodded before remembering that her mother couldn't see her.  "Yeah," she said finally, "Maybe."

They chatted a bit aimlessly for a while before Rose realized it was nine o' clock and she had better be getting read for bed.  Jackie made her promise to come to _her_ flat for dinner soon and Rose rubbed her forehead tiredly as she agreed.  She hung up and heaved herself off the couch, taking a quick shower before falling into bed. 

In her exhausted, near-delirious state, she mused that this was the first time in a long while that she had left the station on time... Maybe dinner wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose debated calling in sick from work just to keep away from John.  After sitting up in bed thinking about it for twenty minutes, she realized she would only be wasting time.  He would be relentless, she knew that already about him.  If he wanted to get to know her over dinner, he was going to.  

She rolled out of bed on a heavy sigh and prepared her tea and a piece of toast.  She really couldn't be bothered with much more and she knew that she and John wouldn't be going out for breakfast every day.  Neither of them made enough money for that.  So she just puttered about until she had eaten and got dressed, all her hair down aside from a little bit pinned in the back with a sparkly barrette that she was very certain belonged to her mother in the nineties.  

Finally, once she was semi-prepared for the day, she got in her car and drove straight to the station, wondering if she could ignore John when he came in. There were certainly things both of them could be doing, after all.  Individual, computer work.  Research.  Yes, research would be a good idea.  Background checks.

She tried to convince herself that he would be alright with not talking to her the whole day but found that that was completely futile.  He was a chatter and he wasn't going to stop because she was in a mood. 

The whole thing of it was actually very infuriating.  He was happy and wanted her attention and it was completely bonkers.  It actually, when she sat and thought about it for too long, made her furious, and she didn't want to be furious over someone she had to work with.  Work _closely_ with. 

Donna was yelling at someone at the front desk when she came in, and Rose tried to slip by, unnoticed, but of course, that didn't happen.

"Oi!" Donna shouted.  "You come back here."

Rose walked backwards back to Donna to show her dislike for having to backtrack at all.  "Yes, Commissioner?"

"How was the first day with your new partner yesterday?" She asked.

Rose didn't want to say that there were moments that she liked with him, that he was kind and considerate and didn't judge her for her past.  Instead of any of those things, she sniffed and lifted a shoulder.  "He's alright.  Bit of a talker."

Jack popped his head up from the front desk, revealing himself as the person that Donna had been yelling at.  He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Do you like them talkers, Rose?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Doesn't matter.  He's my work partner, and we're gonna solve this case and go onto less scarring ones."

Donna had the good grace to look sheepish at that.  "Rose, I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't," Rose assured her.  "I just didn't plan on telling him at all, but how else am I supposed to explain how I know where a madam does her business?" She rubbed her forehead, "It was just embarrassing."

Jack looked at her sympathetically.  "Well, Rose, you're past all that now, you're a brilliant woman, and... Well...  I'm sure John sees that too."

Rose nodded and promptly changed the subject.  "We don't have a lead," she told Donna, "But we have a fiance and a madam name."

Donna furrowed her brows.  "She had a fiance?"

"Some call girls are lucky enough to find men that don't regard them as damaged goods," Rose snapped before she could even think about the words.  She felt her eyes widen and watched Donna's do the same.  

"Now, Rosie, she didn't mean-"

"I'm sorry," Rose cut Jack off.  "Sorry, I just... It's been... I need to get to work."

It was early and her head was already swimming, but she forced herself to sit at her desk and boot up her computer, hoping to find any more information on Grace.  Or Lady, as it were.  That was an odd alias, she thought, considering that most girls used real names, just names that weren't their own. Of course, somebody out there must have found it sexy.  She leaned on her elbow and rested her chin in her hand as she scrolled through Stephanie's site looking for Grace.  With any luck, her file would still be up.  She wasn't sure if Stephanie would've taken it down or not, out of respect. 

Fortunately, Stephanie's social graces were lacking and Grace's page was still very much up, with contact information.  Rose looked over her shoulder to make sure that Donna wasn't watching her before pulling her keyboard closer and starting about hacking into the site to look at Grace's messages. 

It was surprisingly easy to get into.  Rose made a mental note to contact Stephanie to tighten up security a little bit.  After a quick scan through Grace's settings, she saw that there were three messages dated the day before she died from an anonymous source.  Rose narrowed her eyes and clicked on the messages, reading them closely. 

_Our appointment for tomorrow?  Still on?_

Another one from an hour and a half later.

_I'm not paying for you to ignore me, Lady._

Another, only thirty minutes in front of the last.

_Can't wait to see you._

Rose shivered and promptly printed the messages, running to the printer and grab the paper that printed in a gaudy purple color before anyone else could see.  She put it with the file on Grace and started trying to track the messages. 

They must have been sent from a very underground or secure system, because Rose was having trouble even locating a general location, and it should have been obvious because it was _London,_ for God's sake. 

She chewed on her bottom lip and narrowed in on the messages, trying to be subtle about her furious typing as she tried to locate a name or address.  It seemed impossible for her to do from her end, and she had a feeling she would need a higher tech computer or piece of equipment.  She leaned back and scratched her cheek, crossing her arms in frustration.  She couldn't _get_ to it. 

Of course, she wasn't exactly well versed in hacking, but she had general knowledge and was frustrated that she couldn't get in.  

"What are you looking at?"

John speaking made her jump and she sent him a dirty look over her shoulder.  "Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on people?"

"In some circumstances.  What did you find?"

Reluctantly, Rose showed him the messages.  "I think they're from the killer," she offered as he sat in his desk chair and swiveled it over to her. 

He leaned over her shoulder, perhaps a bit too close, perhaps a bit too friendly, and she stiffened.  He didn't seem to notice, instead was looking over the messages.  "They're threatening," he said softly.  "Even the last one... It feels sinister."

"That's what I thought."

"Well, did she have any other appointments that night?"

Rose turned back to her computer and scrolled through her other messages.  It became apparent that Grace did many of her appointments through her site instead of solely via Stephanie. She chewed her bottom lip and shook her head.  "No, it looks like this was the only one."

John leaned towards her computer, squinting for a moment before pulling out his glasses and perching them on the end of his nose.  "Do you think we need to call through her client list again."

"No," Rose said, sharper than she intended to.  "I think it'll be just fine if we don't.  We determined that they're harmless, and I stand by that."

"It wouldn't hurt to check," John hedged carefully, being aware of her feelings about the situation, since they were clearly strong. 

"Not today," she snapped.  "We can't just call all those men two days in a row, that's mental."

John sighed in defeat and leaned back in his own chair, giving Rose space.  "Maybe you're right," he said, "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't check again if the need presents itself."

"Can we investigate Saxon?" She asked abruptly.

He blinked at her and pushed his glasses up on his nose, sniffing.  "Well, we could, I suppose, but we can't get a warrant.  We have no reasonable cause to go after him."

"I don't care."

"What makes you think he's behind this?  He's never killed before, that's not really his agenda."

Rose swallowed heavily.  "I just think it's something... I just... I want all our options checked," she stumbled over the words. "If he's one of our leads, we should follow after him."

"And what about Rassilon?"

"What about him?"

"You want to investigate him, too?"

"Of course I do, but Rassilon is elusive, you know that," she crossed her ankles and leaned on her elbows, staring at the computer so she wouldn't have to look at him.  "I just think Saxon is a better start, don't you?"

"I'm not going to tell you it's not a good idea," John relented, "But it is what it is, and what it is is that we can't just go after somebody without just cause."

Rose wrinkled her nose.  "That was an awful lot of words to say just that."

John chuckled, a low sound that did something very odd to her insides.  She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and when he didn't speak, they both fell silent.  It settled over them and all she could hear was John breathing and it was _annoying_ her and couldn't she work alone?  The only reason she would ever need a partner would be because she worked herself too hard, but this was ridiculous.  She could've done all this herself.  Especially on this case. 

"You're in a mood."

"That's my constant mood, you'd best get used to it," Rose replied, taking out her anger on him.  He swiveled back to his own desk and started up his computer.  She suddenly felt guilty.  Here he was, trying to be nice to her, and she just kept pushing him to hate her. 

She sighed heavily and turned to him.  "Look, I'm sorry.  I'm used to working alone.  I don't know how to do all this, I guess."

It shocked her when he reached out and squeezed her hand, but she let him take it.  He smiled softly at her.  "It's alright.  I think you'll find I'm a very patient man."

She let him hold her hand for a moment, eve surprised herself by holding it back, until he ran his thumb over her knuckles and let his hand move back to safe territory at his own desk.  She blinked, felt like she'd been burned with no particular reason behind it.  She swallowed heavily.  "Wait, what are you doing on your computer?  We don't have any reports to type."

"What's the URL of the site you're on?" He asked, ignoring her.  

She watched him blankly. 

"Oh, sorry," he wiped his nose, clearly in a nervous gesture, before tugging on his ear.  "I'm going to try to hack farther into it.  I had a friend, who..." He trailed off.  "I had a friend who taught me a thing or two that the police wouldn't know."

She found herself smiling at him, despite herself and despite all the garbage she had put him through just this morning.  "I won't tell Donna if you won't."

He cringed.  "Yeah, it's best she doesn't know."

As it turned out, John excelled at hacking, going into encrypted files that he surely should not have been able to access.  Rose liked watching his hands work across the keyboard, delicate yet strong, long fingers hovering over the keys in anticipation before choosing the one he would need next.  

"If Donna comes by, yell."

Luckily, Donna didn't come by, but Jack did.  He started chatting with Rose and she leaned on her desk all the way to block John's actions.  

"So, do you hate her yet?" Jack said teasingly, directing the question at John.  Rose winced, afraid he was so entranced in what he was doing that he didn't hear Jack's question, but luckily, he did.  He looked up from his computer and smiled.

"I think Detective Tyler is a very charming woman."

"Have we met the same Detective Tyler?" Jack asked, a twinkle in his eye.  

Rose rolled her eyes and Jack leaned over to poke her in the side. "I'm kidding," he promised.  "Don't you kids have too much fun.  I have reports to file."

"Have fun," Rose said, just praying that he would leave faster. 

"Oh, I always do." He winked over his shoulder as he walked away.

The second he left Rose rolled over to John, the arm of her chair brushing his.  "Finding anything?"

John grunted in frustration.  "The identity of whoever sent those messages is incredibly well hidden.  I can't find anything."

Rose ground her teeth a little at that before she caught her tongue by accident and forced herself to quit.  "There's not a single shred to go on?"

John shook his head. "Whoever we're dealing with here is some kind of mastermind.  According to everything I'm looking at, he.." He demonstrated, pulling up file after file that was unable to locate the man who sent Grace the messages.  "According to _everything,_ he didn't send anything.  Nobody did.  He doesn't exist."


	8. Chapter 8

"What?" Rose furrowed her brows, squinting at the computer. "What?"

John shrugged, looking a little more closely as well.  "Whoever did this was an absolute genius.  For all we know, this person wasn't in London."

Rose swore under her breath and fidgeted in her seat.  "Well then, what are we gonna do about it?"

He looked a little surprised as he turned to look at her. "We can't do anything further, not on this.  We've just done all sorts of illegal hacking.  We can't legally look for anything else."

She felt her blood boiling.  Somebody needed to pay, and soon, so she could get off this case and on with her life.  The frustration surrounding herself was surprising even her, and she got roughly to her feet, making John jolt back, as if he had been sitting too close to her.  

"I'm going to go get tea.  Do you want some?"  She headed off without waiting for a reply and felt her anger mount as she heard him following her.  She ignored him, as if she couldn't hear, practically _feel_ every footfall behind her.  He finally grabbed her arm as she reached the break room and turned her to face him. 

"I get that this is hard for you," he said, his voice gentle but his eyes bordering on wild.  "But you can't let your emotions rule you, Rose, not like this.  Please, just... I don't know, act like an adult?"

"Act like an adult?" she snorted.  "Is that what you want?  For me to pretend that I don't have feelings, that I wasn't a whore?"

He winced at the word, and it struck her as odd, that it affected him almost as harshly as it affected her, always would affect her.  He released her arm and took a step back. "But you're not anymore," he said quietly. "You're somebody else now, can't you focus on that?"

They stared at each other in a bit of a stalemate.  Rose had nothing to say to him, she owed him nothing and she knew that.  She clenched her jaw to keep any words from escaping her mouth, but he was patiently waiting for a response.  He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at her as though he expected a very good answer for as long as she was making him wait.

"I know I'm not that person anymore," she relented finally, when the silence got to be too much. "I know that.  But it's in my face, I'm getting thrown back in that world again, I had to go see Stephanie, which I never wanted.  How can you just make me focus on who I am now when I keep having to look at my past?"

Her demand didn't go unheard.  To her surprise, he nodded, accepting what she'd said and walked forward to her, pulling her into a hug.  She thrashed at him for a moment, her fist connecting with his side, but he was holding her loosely enough that if she had really wanted to, she could've escaped.  Finally, her sigh muffled in his suit jacket, she tentatively wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him back with an odd carefulness. 

"I don't expect you to... I don't know, pretend things never happened," he said, as though speaking to a friend and not someone he had just met a couple days prior.  "I expect you to find a balance between who you were and who you are.  And I have no right to ask that of you, but it's not for me, Rose, it's for you."

She pulled back and regarded him carefully, her eyes glinting with something she refused to call tears.  She smiled a little bit.  "Okay," she said softly.

He grinned winningly at her. "So I'm not some horrible monster that you have to work with?" He asked cheekily, "Are you going to be nice to me?'

She laughed, despite herself, despite everything, she laughed.  "Yeah," she nodded, "I think I can do that."

"Blimey, good, because if we're going to work together it would be absolute hell if you hated me," he brushed past her to the little kitchenette and pulled out the kettle.  "I hope that someday we can be friends, Rose.  Coworkers should be able to trust each other."  He wrinkled his nose as he filled up the kettle in the little sink.  "I dunno, unless you hate them."

She chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest subconsciously, still trying to protect herself.  "I've hated my share of coworkers."

He sighed mournfully. "Haven't we all?'

They were quiet as he puttered about the kitchenette, preparing tea for them.  He turned, his back to the counter, and braced his hands behind him on it.  He watched her, as though expecting that she had something to say when she really didn't.  She kept quiet, her eyes watching him like a cat.  

"Donna told me about you."  He finally said, breaking the silence.

She blinked. "What?  Why?"

He shrugged. "When I was offered the job, I was unsure.  I've worked with my fair share of inconsiderate or stupid people and I was reluctant to take a job with someone I didn't know.  I could've been a Private Investigator, done it all myself.  But she told me how brilliant you are, how passionate, and I couldn't say no," he leaned forwards and whispered, "This is me trying to be your friend, by the way."

"God, you sound like you're in high school.  'Would you like to be my friend?  Check yes or no'," Rose shook her head. 

John smiled, not finding her comment an insult.  "I suppose.  But maybe you should give that sort of thing a shot," he said, "It's honest.  Have you ever thought about it?"

"And what, being an open book is a good thing?" She asked, arching an eyebrow at him and waiting for him to counteract her.

"No," he replied.  "Being an open book is very bad sometimes, you can open up to the wrong people.  But sometimes, it's a _brilliant_ thing.  Can't you see that?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.  "You sound like a therapist I once had."

He still hadn't stopped smiling, and although she wanted to be annoyed with that fact, she found that she really couldn't be.  He lifted a shoulder.  "You teach me to be a better detective, and I can teach you about people skills."

"You're already a good detective," Rose replied dismissively.

John regarded her with a sort of admiration that she had never expected to see from someone.  "Not as good as you."

She blushed and look away. "Hush up, just fix the tea."

It was too domestic, even though they were in the workplace. He was fixing her tea and telling her she was brilliant, and it really was quite unfair.  A man had never looked at her like she had a brain, and here John was, saying he wanted to get to know that brain.  Of course, she knew Mickey, had known Mickey forever, and Jack, but with them it wasn't quite the same.  Her relationship with Jack was superficial, and she had known Mickey since they were toddlers.  A new man looking at her like this... Well, it was something she certainly wasn't prepared for. 

She sat down at the four person table that the break room housed, just to get away from him, and crossed her legs, bouncing her foot in the air.  On top of it all, she thought to herself, she had to go to dinner with him that night.  At his.  It was really a predicament she never thought she'd be in.  What if she liked him?  What if he wasn't just putting up a front, this kind soul that was talking to her at work was actually him?  He seemed like a good man, which of course made it all the more infuriating. 

"Tea's ready!" John shouted over the kettle boiling, snapping her from her thoughts.

He asked her how she took her tea and they drank it in almost silence, almost being because John seemed to have trouble keeping his mouth shut for more than two and a half minutes at a time. 

"What do you want for dinner?" He asked her suddenly.  She blinked.  

"I don't know, I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, I can cook whatever you want."

"You can cook?"

"Didn't I mention?" He furrowed his brows.

She shrugged her shoulders.  She really couldn't remember.  "I'll eat anything," she said, "I'm not picky."

"Well, good, cause neither am I."  He smiled at her again.  "Now, we'd better stop wasting about here and get back to work."

Since their talk, she found herself able to converse with John a bit better.  He was very good at small talk, which was good because that was the only sort of talk that Rose was good at at all.  They investigated Stephanie on a deeper level, something Rose had wanted to do since she had left the agency, but she came up annoying squeaky clean.  That was odd, considering she ran a call girl agency.  Rose rested her chin in her hand and blew out a sigh at that information. 

"Not even shoplifting?" She asked weakly.

"No," John replied, "Clean as a whistle, this one, well... Maybe not..." He made a face and Rose laughed, shifting back to her own computer.  

"I need a break from this," she admitted.  "Do you mind if I go through some emails?"

"Ignoring your inbox?" He asked.

Chanting in her head to be more open, more fun to be around, more of the old Rose, she replied, "Very studiously."

He had barely finished laughing when she saw an email with the subject 'My Fair Lady'.  She tapped him on the shoulder and barely restrained herself from dragging him over to her by his swivel chair.  Sensing her shift in mood, his walked his chair over, his knees pressed against the side of her own chair.  His back arm went around the back of her chair and he let out a low whistle.

"Are you going to click on it?" He asked softly. 

She nodded and finally clicked on it, her hands shaking with it.  A little loading circle spun for but a moment before the email popped up.

_My Fair Lady,_

_Now that our real Lady is gone,_

_Under the name of Grace Clint,_

_You know you have won,_

_My affections you have cinched._

_Come to the address with below within the one hundred sixty eighth hour,_

_I long to see you, my Belle de Jour._

There was no name under the email, just a penthouse address that was across the city from where Grace had been murdered.  At the look of her alias on an email, her _work_ email, she started to breathe heavily, feeling herself heading towards hyperventilation, and barely noticed when John gripped her chair and spun her towards him. 

"Don't look at it, Rose, look at me."

She finally did, and something she saw in his eyes made her calm dramatically.  She felt her breathing slow and deepen with his, as he breathed slowly and loudly to show her what he meant.  Finally, she closed her eyes, letting the last of her panic drain out of her.

"We need to get Donna." Rose said unsteadily.

Donna was at Rose's desk in record time after John went to fetch her, and bent over to look at the email.  She made an aggravated noise in the back of her throat.  "Well, I have an idea of what we should do, but it's not... Well, it's not ideal."

"I need to go." Rose replied, trying to read Donna's mind with her words. 

John hung his head for a moment before looking back at the computer screen. "That sounds like the opposite of safe."

"That's what backup is for, dumbo," Donna said, addressing John.  He blushed a little bit at the insult and Rose found herself smiling a little. 

"Give us two days," Donna said.  "We'll track the email and determine if it's safe."

"What would be the purpose in her going?" John demanded, getting to his feet.  "It's just putting her in danger.  We don't need that right now."

"This is obviously Grace's killer," Rose said, gesturing violently at the screen.  "And he's going to wait for me for seven days.  That's seven days and he says to come within those hours.  There's no time."

Donna nodded.  "Rose is right," she said, "There's something going on.  Maybe it's a confession."

"Or maybe it's an attempt at another murder." John clenched his fists at his sides. 

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you can be right outside the door to the penthouse." Donna relented.  "You can be close.  But give us time to get through this before either of you do anything stupid, do you understand me?  And send me that email."

Rose and John both murmured reluctant 'yes, ma'am,' under their breath and Rose quickly forwarded the email before leaning back in her chair and blowing out a rough sigh.  John fell into his chair.  

"Are we still on for dinner tonight?" He asked in an exasperated tone.

Rose's laugh was muffled behind her hands.  She dropped them to her lap and regarded him carefully.  She could say no.  She could get out of this, due to trauma, and not have to go to where he _lived_ and share a meal with him.  But despite all that, she found herself nodding. 

"Yeah."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner commences, and a storm rages
> 
> Skin hunger: the need for a healthy touch when such touch has not been had within a considerable amount of time

Seeing as both John and Rose were shaken up and acting like complete lunatics, Donna came back to tell them to shove off and go home. 

"Neither of you are any use to me like this," she said in a scolding tone, "Rose, you'll be safe because John seems to think he can rip apart a killer with his teeth."  She put her hands on her hips and scowled at them.  "Animals, the pair of you.  Go home and take naps before you come in tomorrow.  Jack and I will discuss the email with you then."  

There was really no room for argument, not that either of them were really in the mood for an argument at that point.  They shuffled off, Rose's hair mangled from the amount of times she'd run her hair through it, John looking quite the same, although his was on purpose.  She barely said a 'see you later' to him before stomping off to her car in frustration. 

In truth, she was more afraid than anything else.  If there was one thing Rose Tyler was not supposed to fear, it was death, because she was supposed to be nearly invincible.  She wasn't, though, and she knew that if she was to meet Grace's killer she'd be in more trouble than she ever had been before.  

Going to John's for dinner wouldn't make her feel safer, and now she was seeing it more as a waste of time than anything, but he had been insistent and he was... Well, he was her partner and they should probably be on each other's good sides.  

She changed at least six times at her own flat before she scolded herself.  "This isn't a date," she shouted at her reflection, shaking a finger at herself.  "He's your colleague!" 

Her brain didn't seem to quite agree with itself, however, because she ended up dressing in black, tight fitting jeans and a green top that flowed out a her hips but fit her just right in several nice places.  The back of it, on the bottom half, was completely sheer, and she stared at it.  Should she put a vest top under it?  This was probably too scandalous.  She worried her bottom lip as she looked at herself over her shoulder, wondering what, exactly, she should do about it.  Eventually, she chickened out and put on a green vest top underneath what she was wearing to  match it.  Maybe it wouldn't be quite so obvious that way. 

Still, she looked rather fit, she had to admit, and if Rose Tyler was the sort of woman to go on dates, that is exactly what she would be wearing on said date.  She looked at the clock.  John had told her to come at six, and it was only four thirty, since Donna had sent them home early.

She would've eaten to pass the time, had it been a normal night, and then just gone to bed, but she could do neither of those things.  Instead, she sat down and watched telly, just like the sane parts of Britain did on normal evenings.  Most people didn't brood to themselves all night, every night, unless they were with their mothers. 

Well.  Some might.

Foot tapping on her carpet turned to full blown anxiety, and she found herself ready to take off to John's and show up early.  As if an answer to her prayers that she hadn't even uttered, her phone rang with John's caller id on it.  She answered it after the third ring.  Maybe he would cancel and she could just go to sleep. 

"Hello." his voice rang through to her. 

"Hello."

"Um, well... Seeing as we're home early, I started... Well, I started cooking, and it's finished.  If you'd like to come round now, that would be perfectly alright."

"Okay."

He seemed surprised with her response, even it was a little reluctant.  "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah.  I'll come round in a few." 

She hung up on him then, not giving him the opportunity to do anything else about it.  Sighing to herself, she got up, retrieved her purse, and left her flat. 

It was the first time in a long time she had left the building to do anything but go to work or get food, and she found that the very notion was pretty sad.  She huffed out a sigh and started her car.  It wasn't like she wanted to go anyway.  She was just doing it to appease him.  Maybe he'd leave her alone after this.  They didn't have to hang out outside of work, it wasn't in anybody's job description after all, and certainly not in hers.  

She drove slowly, but she eventually made it there.  She triple checked the address.  He didn't live in a flat, he lived in a house, a cozy looking little thing with two stories and a welcome mat in front of the door.  She parked in his driveway and swallowed hard.  Somehow, this was more intimidating than visiting somebody's flat.  She ascended the three stairs to his door and knocked twice before she could turn tail and run.  She winced when she realized she'd used her 'if you don't answer the door I'll break it down' knock.

John answered with a smile on his face, dressed in a dark wash pair of jeans and a royal blue jumper.  He'd taken off his shoes and was wearing only black socks with yellow toes and heels.  She blinked at surprise at the enthusiasm he put into literally everything he did.  

"Hello," He said, "I thought that might be you."

She blushed a bit and he invited her in with a sweeping arm gesture.  She entered and toed off her shoes, as he didn't' have his on, she thought it would be appropriate.  He seemed to appreciate this, and shut the door behind her. 

"Oh.  You're not a vegetarian, are you?" 

"No."

"Good.  I didn't think to ask you."  His brow creased in worry again.  "Any allergies?"

"No."

"Oh, good."

Her lip twitched.  "You don't plan ahead so well, do you?" 

He shook his head sheepishly.  "No.  Come in, though, dinner is ready."

She followed him through his house, which seemed bigger on the inside, but no less comfortable and cozy, and to his dining room.  In a word, it was spectacular.  A long, mahogany table graced the room.  The walls were cream and he had a china cabinet.  She'd never heard of a man having a china cabinet before. 

"You have a _lovely_ home," she said with emphasis, unable to disguise her awe at it. 

"Thank you," he said happily, "I inherited it."

She looked back to him.  "You what?"

"Come help me place the food out, please?"

She did, brushing off what he'd said, at least for now, and followed him into his kitchen. 

He'd really done well.  Prepared and placed exquisitely on the platters were grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and what appeared to be freshly baked homemade bread.  She carried out the vegetables as he carried the chicken and bread, setting them on the table. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anywhere less formal to eat," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. 

"S'okay, if I wanted informal I would've eaten at home," she said, 

"Well, perhaps I'll have to experience that someday."

Was he... Flirting with her?  The very thought nearly jolted her.  Any sort of flirting that had been done with her had usually been with intent, as the men who did it knew exactly what they would be getting from her.  This, though.  It was gentle and subtle, almost as though he was almost surprised he'd done it at all.  They looked at each other for a few moments, and then he gestured for her to sit.  She sat next to the head of the table and he sat at the head.  He passed her the chicken and they served themselves in silence.  

"Now, you wanted to know about me," she said, pushing her chicken around with her fork.  He smiled. 

"I think you and I are alike," he said, leaning on his forearm.  "Don't you?"

"We don't even know each other that well," Rose replied. 

"Exactly," he said.  "I know nothing about you.  You...  Alright, so let's start with those really trivial things that friends know about each other."

"Okay," she took a bite of her chicken.  Her eyes widened.  "This is amazing."

He smiled, preening at the compliment.  "Well, thank you.  I've been cooking for myself since I was seventeen."

She furrowed her brows.  "Why?"  She realized shortly after the word left her mouth that she probably shouldn't have said anything at all.  "I'm sorry, that was completely rude and-"

"Now, listen.  I know more than I should about your past, so it's only fair that you know about mine."  He looked at her and studied her gaze, nodding when he saw her earnestness.  "My parents died when I was seventeen.  In an accident.  I had my Aunt Sylvia and Donna, and her granddad Wilf.  But I lived alone."

She felt a sympathy for him so intense that without thinking, she reached over and covered the hand lying on the table with hers.  "I'm sorry, John."

He turned his palm up and squeezed her hand in his.  "It's made me a stronger person.  Even though I miss them.  We've both been through hard things."

"Yours harder."

Rose furrowed her brows.  "That's not necessarily true," she said, "I've... I..."

He squeezed her hand again.  "There is nothing harder than paying of debts.  I had to work thirty hour weeks in addition to paying off my parent's house, if I hoped to live there, which I did."

"And it's lovely."

"It is, isn't it?"

They let go of each other's hands to eat their dinner, which Rose expressed again was very, very good.  He seemed very pleased by this.  They talked effortlessly, Rose now feeling it easier to talk to him because of him opening up to her.  Things were going quite well actually, until a deep roll of thunder crossed over the house and lightening lit up the house.  

"Oh, well," John raised his eyebrows.  "I didn't even hear that coming on." 

"Me neither," she admitted.  She'd been so engrossed in talking to him that she had forgotten to be upset, and guarded.  She looked at him with sort of new eyes.  "I... i guess I'd better go home."

"No," he replied.  "You should wait until this blows over."

She knew it was true.  The rain had been slamming onto the room so hard that both of them could hear it as though it was raining right down on them.  He looked at her with worry, as though he was afraid she would take off on him into unsafe territory.  So, finally, she nodded.  

"We could watch a film while we wait," he got to his feet and cleared their plates.  "Go into the living room and pick something out."

Rose was finding it very difficult to not be overwhelmed by all this.  He was acting almost as though they were a couple, just settling in for a night in, watching telly and cuddling or something. She shook her head,  he wasn't going to cuddle her.  That would be absurd.  She walked to where she remembered the family room was and found the movie cupboard easily.  She fished about in it, looking for something light-hearted to watch.  The last thing she wanted to do was be affected emotionally.  She noticed he had an excessive amount of Disney movies and took out a random Pixar one, not finding it in her heart to be bothered with anything else. 

She felt uncomfortable.  It was like when she had been with a client, waiting for him to shower so she could get on with what she needed to do and go home.  That was all it was to her.  She sat on the couch and wondered how to wait without looking sexy.  They'd opened up to each other, spoken of their families, their home lives.  She learned that he loved his parents whole heartedly, and still did.  He'd learned of her hatred of her past, and she was alarmed to find that she didn't regret telling him a single thing that she'd told him. 

He entered the room on a flash of lightening and it startled her.  "The power shouldn't go out," he said, unaffected, and picked up the movie she'd chosen.  " _Up_?" He beamed, "Good pick.  Love a good Pixar."  He popped it into the DVD player of his frankly massive TV and sat down next her, leaving a foot of space between them.  She watched him in peripheral vision as he started up the film. 

John really was a gorgeous man.  He had a delicious profile, and his hair was tousled artfully, as it always was at word, and she found herself drawn to the line of his nos and lips.  The hand not holding the remote rested casually on his knee, and she found herself wishing it was her hand. 

"I really should go," she shot to her feet. 

He looked up at her dubiously.  "Are you... Rose, are you afraid to be alone with me?"

He sounded hurt, and that wouldn't do at all.  She shook her head.  "No.  No, I'm not, I just- we have to be at the office early tomorrow."

"I'll call Donna and tell her we'll be a little late.  It'll give her some things to look at before we go in.  I can't make you stay, but I'd like for you to be safe."

A man had never said that to her before, and it made her fidget in ways she hadn't planned on fidgeting.  She watched him and he watched her. He was being patient in their stalemate, letting her choose what to do.  Eventually, she nodded.  "Okay," she whispered, and sat next to him. 

"If you're uncomfortable, I have some lounge clothes you could borrow."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not, I'm offering."

It felt too much like a date already, wearing his clothes wouldn't make it any better.  She shook her head again.  "Maybe just a blanket?" 

"Of course."

He stood and returned with a crocheted afghan.  He draped it over the both of them, though he was still keeping his distance.  "My mother made it," he said, his voice full of fondness.

"It's lovely," she said, fingering the soft yarn, frayed a bit with use.

"It's my favorite one," he replied, "She made about seventy in her lifetime and donated them to homeless shelters.  I have seven of them." 

She grinned at him.  "I think that's a really nice legacy," she told him.  

He seemed to think so too.  He nodded and switched the movie on.

There was a sort of magnetic attraction between John Smith and Rose Tyler. It was something that neither of them had been looking for, and one that neither of them had anticipated.  But he ached for her touch in a way that he did not understand, in a way he never thought he would want from someone.  She felt as though every atom that made up her body was meant to be touching his, and it made her so uncomfortable that she tried to scoot away.  But with each movement away from him, there were other moments that brought them closer.  She wanted to be close. 

It was the need for closeness, from people so skin hungry, that brought their shoulders to touch, lost in the fabric as an old man and little boy traversed on an epic adventure.  The storm was still raging when her head rested on his shoulder.  It pounded down on the house as his hand made its way around her side, tucking her close against him. 

While the storm pounded outside, threatening to crush them  through John's parents' house, but inside, they knew nothing but the feel of clothed leg pressed against clothed leg.  She was tucked up against him, forgetting that she was supposed to feel unsafe while sitting with a man.  And he forgot that he had intended to never love another person again.  

In the end, destiny will have its way, but Rose Tyler never intended what would happen that night, to cuddle with a man she barely knew but somehow felt as though she belonged to.  

...And she never intended what happened to them in that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end!!! It kind of seems like a super cryptic one, but it's not.


	10. Chapter 10

She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep on John's shoulder until the movie was over.  She jerked awake and sat up.  He looked at her, his arm still around her waist.  He looked completely calm, his eyes filled with something gentle and content.  She could still hear the rain thundering violently against the house, thunder rolling every so often.  

"Are you alright?" He asked softly. 

"Yeah, I just..." She looked at the clock.  It was about ten o' clock.  "I need to go home."  She stood up, removing the afghan from her lap and leaving it to fall across the couch.  "I need to go."

John turned the DVD player off and turned the news on instead.  The only thing they were broadcasting was about how dangerous it was to go outside.  Flood warnings were issued and John looked back at Rose expectantly. "I know this wasn't on the forecast, Rose, but you need to stay safe.  I have a guest room you can stay in and clothes for you to wear.  I'll feel better if you're here."

There was no ultimatum behind it, she could tell.  He looked sincere, relaxed, and earnest.  She knew he cared for her on some level, and although she didn't know it, couldn't help but wonder if there was some need in him, a primal instinct, to take care of her.  She wrung her hands in nervousness. 

"I'm going to call Donna and say that we'll be late to work tomorrow, alright?"  He pulled out his mobile without waiting for a reply and dialed in, placing the mobile to his ear.  "Yeah, hi, Donna.  It is bad, you're right.  I need to- yeah.  Yeah, Rose and I will both be late tomorrow.  What time can we come in?  Sure.  Yeah.  If you say so."  He hung up and looked up at Rose.  "She's very blunt."

"I know. What did she say?"

"She said to come in at four tomorrow and we'd discuss the email.  It's not safe where she is either.  Now, are you going to keep trying to put yourself in danger, or are you going to listen to me?"

She shuffled her feet and nodded. "Okay.  I'll stay."

"Alright, good," he got to his feet.  "I'll take you to the guest room." 

He led her up the stairs.  She stayed several steps behind him, afraid of being too close, for so many reasons.  She finally succumbed to walking up to his side when he opened one of the doors, looking expectantly behind himself.  

"Thank you," she mumbled, passing into the room.  

"There's extra pajamas in the drawer.  They're, er, mine, but they should do."

Rose nodded. "Alright.  Thanks."

"Yeah.  Sure."  He stood quietly for a moment, shuffling his feet a bit, and flicked his gaze up to her several times.  "I'll just be going, then."

"Okay.  Goodnight."

They looked at each other for a few moments more before John spoke again.  "I had a nice time tonight, before the storm trapped you here."

She couldn't help from smiling a little bit.  "It's okay," she said, "I had a nice time, too.  You're not awful."

He laughed heartily, a laugh that rumbled through her and made her heart sing.  "Well, thank you, Detective Tyler.  You're 'not awful' as well." 

Her lip twitched.  "Thanks, I try."

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.  "No you don't."

"You're right, I don't." She shifted a bit. "Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight."

She shut the door and pressed her back up against it, breathing out a shuddering sigh.  This had been completely ridiculous.  She never should've come.  She should've called off sick and stayed in, not coming, staying away from him.  The thunder rolled and lightening crashed and she should have been _at home._

She grumbled to herself under her breath as she walked to the drawers.  She decided to keep her vest top on and just put on pajama pants.  It wouldn't do well to be positively surrounded by the smell of him.  Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this man was intoxicating, and he'd proved that with his gravitational pull on her tonight.  She hadn't meant to end up _cuddling_ him.  This was supposed to be dinner, nothing more, and she was to be on her way. 

That bloody storm had ruined her ability to keep to herself.  Had she left right after dinner, she could've left with her dignity intact.  Instead, here she was in her partner's house, rummaging through his drawers in search of trousers.  That had to be messed up in one way or another.

She finally seized a pair of striped pajama pants (blue on white, to be exact, and changed there, leaving her own trousers on the floor along with her top shirt.  Maybe the vest top hadn't been a poor idea after all.  She could be comfortable in this.  If she'd put a shirt on, it would've been too much like wearing a boyfriend's clothes. Or a lover's.

She turned to the bed and squared her shoulders.  Right. Sleep.  She'd slept before, she could do sleeping.  She walked over to the bed and crawled under the covers, trying to get comfortable.  She shut off the bedside light and squeezed her eyes shut.  She counted to herself, murmuring numbers under her breath, trying to remain calm even as her heart hammered in her chest.  It couldn't be heard over the storm, but Rose had a feeling that John knew she was panicking.  That was just the sort of thing that he would notice regardless.  

Somehow, in the torrent of feelings and thoughts and numbers, she tossed and turned for several aching minutes before succumbing to a deep sleep that would have shut out even the most violent storm. 

Of course, there was one thing that she didn't keep out of her little sleep bubble.  A cry for help.  When Rose bolted upright after hearing a shout, she listened carefully.  The rain had slowed to a gentle pitter-patter against the windows and she had to strain to hear, but finally heard a muffled shout of pain. 

Jumping up, she fumbled around for a dressing gown or something to protect her modesty before giving up and tearing from the room.  She followed the sounds of the cries through John's house, and though it was homey, it seemed almost bigger on the inside.  She was led by the sounds to a door down the hallway from hers, and without thinking, she threw the door open. 

He was having a nightmare.

This man, this extraordinary man who kept a smile on his face and kindness in his heart, was in the throes of an incredibly violent nightmare.  The sheets twisted around his waist and legs, giving him more demons to fight and thrash again.  Sweat covered his forehead and for a moment Rose forgot that she was supposed to be a heartless detective, and his coworker.  She went into the room without permission and pressed her knee into the bed, gaining leverage to push his wrists down into the bed, stilling him, trying to keep him from hurting himself. 

He didn't seem to appreciate that too much, as he thrashed against her. 

"John," she said softly, "It's all right.  You're in your house.  It's alright."

He pulled away from her with un-comprehensible force and rolled onto his side.  He cried out for his mother, as though he was seeing her be killed right before his eyes.  She felt her heart squeeze at the thought and laid her hand on his shoulder. 

"It's alright," she whispered, around her own tears.  "I'm sorry, it's alright."

John seemed drawn to her voice, as he whimpered and moved closer to her, rolling back over.  She shifted so she was facing him and stroked her hand across his cheek, daring to run her fingers up into his hair.  He relaxed marginally and tilted his face up to her touch.  He blushed and pulled away, but his brow furrowed the moment she wasn't touching him, so she replaced her hand where it had been.  He reached up and took her hand in his own and breathed her name out on a sigh. 

She jolted.  He surely hadn't meant that.  She'd only been the most recent person he'd talked to, that didn't mean that he knew she was here or anything of the sort.  She removed herself from him and tried to hurry for the door, but was stopped by him again, this time, he was awake.  

Turning slowly back around, she saw him sitting up in bed, his hair tousled beyond repair, and his brow furrowed. "Are you alright?" He asked, as though he hadn't been thrashing about just moments before. 

She fiddled with her own fingers, swallowing heavily and struggling to look at him. "You were having a nightmare," she said softly. 

He blushed and looked away from her.  "Oh," he whispered.  He put his face in his hands.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Rose.  I didn't realize-"

"-It's okay," she cut him off.  "It is.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to walk in on you."

He surprised her by getting to his feet and walking over to her. "Did I scare you?" He asked, reaching out to take her upper arms in his hands.  

"No, I just thought you were being attacked or something."

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Rose reassured him, taking a step back.  "You're alright now, yeah?"

He let his hands drop and nodded tersely.  "Yeah.  Yes. I'm alright."

"Good.  I'm gonna go back to bed then."

"Okay."

"Yep," She took another step back, as though she couldn't stand to turn all the way around and leave.  She blinked and watched him sway forward a bit before taking a step back himself.  

They stared at each other in a deadlock, neither wanting to leave first.  He finally leaned forward and kissed her forehead, perhaps a bit too slowly, perhaps a bit too lingering, but when he let go of her, she almost didn't want to leave. 

"Yeah, goodnight," she disappeared from the room, her skin feeling like it had been burned by just the simple touch.  She could imagine his hand extended to touch her cheek and she shivered.  She wasn't supposed to want this, especially not from him.  She worked with him.  She had been a _call girl,_ and he knew about it.  He was the worst idea she had ever had, and to be fair, she had had a lot of bad ideas. 

She needed to leave, and soon. 

Rose changed out of his pajama trousers and put her own back on, along with her top shirt, and took off towards the front door.  She just needed to get out of there, easily.  The rain wasn't so bad, she could make it.  She put on her shoes and the door was half open before John came up behind her. 

"Rose?" 

She looked over and saw him, looking distraught.  He watched her carefully, now obviously afraid of getting too close to her. 

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away from her.  

"No, it's not... It's not you," she replied earnestly, wincing at how cliche that sounded.  He evidently found that it was cliche too and his eyebrows drew together.  

"Alright, fine.  I'll see you tomorrow," he said, turning away from her and padding down the hallway.  She fumbled with her purse. 

"John," She called out after him, and he turned around, his eyes sad.  

"What, Rose?"

"I'm a mess," she blurted out.  "I ruined my life at a young age. There's nothing left for me.  I don't have anything to give anyone, I never have."

John frowned at her.  "That like me saying that I shouldn't be allowed to have children because my parents are dead." The harsh way he said it made her wince, and he continued.  "I'm attracted to you.  Alright? I've said it.  And yet, even though I've said it, you probably still feel like damaged goods."

"John, I-"

"It's fine," he said sharply.  "You don't have to talk to me anymore.  We can work together and that's it. I can leave the department.  Rose, whether you like it or not, I care about you.  If it'll make you feel safer for me to leave, then that's fine."

"I feel safe with you," she said softly.  "And that's what scares me."

"Right, because that makes so much more sense." He was angry, but almost sounded as though he was on the verge of tears.  "It's _fine,_ Rose, you don't have to explain yourself to me. And you don't have to stay."

Rose felt as though she was feeling something beautiful fall apart in front of her.  She wanted to reach for him, to tell him to forget it all, but she couldn't forget her past.  "I can't-"

"-I know you can't." He ran his hands over his face and through his hair.  "Okay.  I'll see you tomorrow.  And I won't bring any of this up." he walked away from her then, leaving her feeling as though she was standing out _in_ the rain and not inside a very safe house.

She left the house feeling colder and more full of regret that she had ever been.


	11. Chapter 11

Rose cried all the way home.  She didn't know why she cried.  She wasn't even aware she was crying until her tears obstructed her view and she realized it wasn't the rain.  Her fingers gripped the steering wheel with bruising force as she blinked, trying to clear away the moisture.  

She felt as though she'd just ruined everything, not that there was really anything to begin with.  there was no safe way to be with John, and somehow, she had known that from the moment she'd met him.  But this was different.  She'd ruined relationships before, and she'd never felt this bad about it.  She'd never felt _guilty._ But now she did, she wanted to drive back to John and throw herself at him and never look back.  The worst part was, that if she did that, he would probably accept her, hold her close, promise her things that could never come true.  

He deserved better, he deserved anyone that wasn't her, and yet she was still selfish enough to want him.  It made it easier to admit, that she wanted him, when she was alone in her car crying her eyes out.  She pulled her car onto the shoulder of the road, unable to continue driving through the rain and the tears.  She leaned her head against the steering wheel and sobbed, allowing it to rack her body, take her over until there was nothing left. 

And there really _wasn't_ anything left.  She had been right, she had nothing to give him.  It wasn't as though she could be a mother, because her children would find out about her past and then even her own offspring would hat her.  There was no way to do it right, no way to love John right.

No, it was better this way.  It was better for him to let his attraction to her fizzle out until he could be happy with a sane human being who was capable of loving him back without strings attached. 

The tears had stopped, but Rose left her head to sit against the wheel, her eyes closed.  She hadn't been in a relationship since before she'd been a call girl.  She missed the innocent touch of another hand, the loveliness of it.  She'd forgotten how to be loved. 

She snorted and sat up.  How pathetic.  How bloody, sodding _pathetic_ that she didn't remember that. She had to remind herself that she didn't remember it because she didn't deserve it, and quite honestly, never would.  Starting her car back up, she pulled onto the road and drove home without looking back.  

***

Since Donna had told them not to come in until four, Rose slept in, sleeping off her upset and her tears.  Unfortunately, she still woke up at two o' clock with her eyes puffy and irritated, forcing her to wear a bulky pair of glasses.  She still did a full face of makeup though.  No reason for John to think he was the reason she was falling apart, even if it was true.  

Her hair was back up in a business like ponytail with a little poof in the front, no less professional, instead of the flirty half-up do's she had grown accustomed to since meeting John.  It had only been a few days since she'd first laid eyes on him, but it felt like ages and ages. 

She put on one of her 'don't touch me or even come near me' suits and high heels, and bolted out the door. 

Donna was practically waiting for her when she got there.  "John isn't here yet," she blurted out, "You come with me, we'll be discussing this in the conference room."

She was holding a copy of the email that had been sent to Rose in her hand, so she followed Donna dutifully down the hallway and into the conference room.  

"Find anything?" Rose asked casually. 

"You look like hell," Donna replied bluntly, ignoring Rose's question entirely.  Rose winced. 

"Yeah, well, long night."

"I know you didn't stay at my cousin's."

"I don't think that's your business."

"No, it's not, but I know it."

"Commissioner." 

"Detective."

Rose fell into a chair around the conference table.  "Listen, nothing happened."

She cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, I know," she nodded, "I know nothing happened, because John is the perfect gentleman and even though he probably wanted to snog you absolutely senseless, he didn't.  And that's because he knows you deserve a lot and you have been through a lot."

Rose blinked.  "What?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "It's bloody obvious. Or, I should say, _he's_ bloody obvious.  Follows you around like a skinny little lovesick puppy."

Rose sputtered, not sure how to take all this.  "We're partners," she argued. 

"No, it's more than that, and you know it," Donna pointed a finger at Rose, her other hand on her hip.  "You know he feels something strong for you and I have a feeling you return it."

"This is hardly professional!" Rose shouted.  "I know he's your cousin, but could you just leave me alone?   Let's look at what we're here for, nothing else!  I don't want to talk about this!" 

The fact that she had cried all the way home was on the tip of her tongue, but it never made it out.  She bit on it, kept it inside, needed it to stay there. She didn't need Donna to know everything, because that was most definitely what she was trying to pry out of her.  

John walked right into the sparkling electricity of anger that was radiating between the two women and added his own to it.  The tension was thick enough to suffocate, and the way Rose's heart was hammering in her chest was telling her that it was bout to do just that.  She looked studiously away from him as he sat across from her and Donna sat at the head of the table. 

"Now, I've got the copy of the email here," Donna laid it on the table, professional mannerisms firmly back in place.  "He's given you a week, you're going tomorrow."

"That's hardly enough time to-"

"Detective Smith, I am _talking,"_ Donna said, turning on her cousin.  "It's not up to you.  Rose goes up to the penthouse tomorrow, under the alias of Belle de Jour, with the police in unmarked vehicles outside the building."

"And me?" 

Rose shot a look at John.  No way was he trying to get in on this to protect her.  She wouldn't let him.  "I've handled far more than him," she said airly.  "One man is not hard to overcome. He wasn't discussing pay rates in the email, he just wants to talk."

"Or kill you," John said, looking straight at her.  "Rose, he sent you a bloody cryptic poem trying to get you to his penthouse.  You don't find that odd?"

She locked eyes with him, regarding him coolly through the lenses of her glasses.  "I find many things odd.  Shall we focus on the task at hand?" 

Instead of going head to head with her, as she thought he might, he relaxed back in his seat and regarded her with an even stare.  "Yes," he agreed.  "Go on, Donna."

"Right, my turn?" Donna asked sarcastically.  "Our plan is to have Rose go in all dolled up.  We've got a new recording device what we can put in incredibly discreet places."

Rose made a face.  "How discreet?"

"The inside canal of your ear," Donna replied, "Pervert."

"And he won't see it?" 

"Won't even suspect," Donna said cheerfully.  "So you'll wear that, and your best clothes, and go up.  He'll talk to you, and we'll hear every word.  You'll need codes to get you out of... Certain situations."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw John's jaw set in anger.  He seemed distressed at the very idea of 'certain situations' coming up.  She chewed her lip. 

"What sort of codes?" She asked, leaning onto the table.  

"Like key words.  'Codes to launch'." Donna put air quotes around the last words.  "If he starts to get frisky, what do you want to say?"

"How about 'no'?" Rose asked blunty.

Donna nodded. "Usually I would agree, but I need something more specific for this," she said, uncharacteristically gently.  

Rose made a little hum of approval.  She was probably right.  "How about 'let's go get a drink' if anything off color at all happens?"

"Good," Donna took out a pen and wrote down the words on the bottom of her copy of the email.  "Alright, you get here at two o' clock tomorrow and we'll doll you up before you go over there."

Rose gave her a look.  "You know, I've had plenty of experience dolling myself up. I think I'll be just fine." 

"Okay, well, let's go reply to this email, shall we?" 

Donna thought it best not to fight Rose on her ideas of what to do to get herself ready for whatever was going to happen the next night. 

They sat around Rose's computer, Rose directly in front of it, typing out a response.  Donna was on her left and John stood on her right, his arm around the back of her desk chair as he argued with Donna.  She could tell he was making a point not to touch her, even as she ached for his touch.  She supposed, however, that she deserved it. 

"I want to be in the building," John protested, "i want to be there if something goes wrong."

"No," Donna replied firmly.  "Whoever this guy is could have guards.  It's just not safe, John, you can't just throw in whatever you want to do."

"It's about keeping her safe, so what happened to Grace doesn't happen to her."

"'Her' is right here," Rose piped up, tying quickly on her keyboard.  "Here.  How's this?"

Donna and John both snapped to attention and peered at her computer screen. 

_My Admirerer,_

_I fear I am not quite so smooth with words as you,_

_But I shall arrive at the address for dinner tomorrow._

_I do hope that you will present something nice._

_Yours,_

_Belle de Jour_

"Haven't signed anything like that in ages," Rose said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her seat. 

John sighed.  "I don't know.  I just think it's a little flirty."

"It's good," Donna replied.  "It's vague.  You don't say what time, just that it's for dinner, and you flattered him.  Rose Tyler, you might just make it out of this alive."

John gripped the back of her chair with such force that she could feel the tension radiating out into her seat.  "That's what I'm counting on."

"Well, I hardly think-"

"I'm your  _partner,_ Rose, I wish you'd stop selling that short," he said, cutting her off smoothly and effectively.  "And I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe tomorrow."

Donna watched them both, how words so passionate were not spoken to the person they were addressed to.  They were more thrown out, into the abyss for someone to catch, and it luckily was the person who they were meant for. 

"I don't want you two anywhere near each other tonight," Donna said, shattering them both in one moment. They both turned to look at her, expressions of shock written all over their faces.  Donna smiled. "I know exactly what happened, and I know that you two should not be in room as each other right now.  Tomorrow, you can see each other, maybe I'll even let you talk to each other, but for now you just need to stay out of each other's way.  Got it?" 

"Yes, ma'am," they mumbled. 

"Well, I'll go do this paperwork at home then," John said, picking up his briefcase.  In the movement taking his hand from the back of her chair, his hand brushed her arm, and she shivered, wishing for anything that it had been her bare skin.  She didn't know what it was that was drawing her to him, and all of a sudden too, but it was there, and she wanted to hold him and never let him leave. 

"Okay," she said, sending the email and leaning on her elbow on her desk, as though she had many more important things to go over.  He stood over her, as though waiting for a goodbye that would never come, and sighed quietly at himself before vanishing. 

"Did you give him another case or something?" Rose asked after he'd left. 

"No, busywork," Donna replied.  "But he thinks he's doing something important.  God.  If I'd known the two of you were going to have such bad sexual tension, I would've put you on a blind date instead of bringing him into the department."

The irony of that particular statement did not escape Rose.  If it had been a blind date, she wouldn't have gone.  And yet she was more far gone than she had ever been before. 


	12. Chapter 12

Donna left Rose alone and she sat staring at the sent email for several minutes.  She was surprised when she got one back. 

_Dearest Belle,_

_I await our meeting with bated breath_

There were no initials signed, no way to get anywhere near hat was happening.  She found her fingers shaking, out of fear mostly.  It was an alarming message, one that told her in no uncertain terms that she was not to get out of this easily.  She turned her computer off and left the department.  Donna didn't say a word, just watched her leave and shook her head. 

***

The next day, Rose sat in front of her vanity mirror, looking at herself in a way she hadn't had to in years.  She was wrapped in a pink silk dressing gown, trying to fall into the undercover aspect of it, but it was too close to her past life to be comfortable.  Blowing out a sigh, she pulled out the bottom drawer of her vanity, the drawer that hadn't been touched since she hung up Belle de Jour, and pulled out the makeup box.  

It unfolded and was collapsible, making it easy to fit literal pounds of makeup inside.  She looked at it, remembering how to apply every bit, every ounce, and make it look and feel flawless.  She started with her foundation and worked her way up.  If she closed her eyes for just a moment and pretended that she was going on a date, she could just barely keep the bile out of her throat.  It worked, just enough, but the faceless date she was supposed to be picturing was always John.  

When she finally allowed herself to drink in her appearance, her face looked every bit of the part it was supposed to play.  Her complexion looked flawless, eyeliner winged to perfection, and her eye shadow smoking out just the way it was supposed to.  She attached a pair of false lashes and painted on red lips and stared at herself in the mirror.  Rose Tyler was gone, and Belle had taken her place.  

Belle was sultry, and took command of the room.  Rose hid behind paperwork and professional clothes.  She reached for her curling iron and started to go about the business of making every bit of herself perfect.  It was muscle memory, doing so.  It was easy to let her mind wander as she curled her hair, each perfect in its own right, until she was finished and brushed out the girl to make it a more sexy look.

She set the look and walked to her closet.  She knew she had some of Belle's clothes left, even if she'd gotten rid of most of them.  Walking inside, she tapped her now painted fingernails against her chin and found just the thing.  It was most likely a horrible idea to wear it, but she reminded herself that she didn't have to wear any fancy knickers with it.  That thought in itself was reassuring enough for her to pull the outfit down. 

A black corset dress that pushed everything right where it was supposed to go, and red pumps to match the wrap that went around her shoulders.  She forced herself to throw her shoulders back, eyeing herself down in the mirror as though she was competition.  Finally, she felt ready.  Well, as ready as she was going to be, anyway.  

She made her way to the station, trying to remember how to drive in pumps.  She made it there at three, her timing seemingly good, as Donna's nervous pacing hadn't started quite yet.  She was turning heads when she walked in, though, and had to try and keep herself from slouching at the stares. 

"Rosie!" Jack called, walking out to her and taking her hands.  Even with her heels on, he was taller than her and gazing down into her face.  "You look beautiful."

She smiled.  "Thanks, Jack.  When are we taking off?"

"Soon.  We were going to be ready for you whenever you go here, but you might have to wait until about four thirty to go.  Just because you said you were going to be there at dinner, you understand."

"Yeah, I understand."

Donna came out from the conference room, fuming as she stomped from the room.  "John is throwing a bloody _hissy fit._ You'd think he was a teenager with a- Rose!" Her demeanor changed instantly to something more professional and she smiled.  "You look nice.  I have your wire for you."

Rose squinted.  "It's not a wire though, is it?"

Donna responded by rolling her eyes.  "What, so you wanted me to say, 'come here Rose, I have the little tiny device for your ear now'."

"I guess not."

"You'll have to go in there with my wild animal of a cousin, is that alright?" 

Rose wanted to scratch the back of her head but had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to through the hairspray and product in her hair.  "Yeah.  He's harmless."

They walked into the room, Rose drawing her red wrap around her a bit more firmly, covering her chest as they did so.  John was sitting in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest.  He looked angry, but it was clear that the anger was not directed at her.  That was, he looked angry until he laid his eyes on her.  His gaze softened and his arms uncrossed.  

"Rose," he breathed.  He got to his feet.  "Look, I don't want you to have to do this," he said, starting to approach her and then backing up again. 

She stood there, her eyes wide, surprised at his reaction.  "Well, um, that's not the point there."

"It's just-"

"Alright, John, I've had absolutely enough of your whining, do you understand me?" Donna shot her cousin a look.  "Rose is going to be fine, really, just fine.  You can be outside the building with the rest of the police, but if you go barging up there I'll have your head, do you understand me?"

John seemed to deflate at his cousin's words, and he nodded.  "Yes, I understand."

"Rose, you wait here, John's going to put in your device.  Jack and I are rounding up the unmarked, we'll be right back."  Donna left the room then, leaving John and Rose alone, looking at everything but each other. 

"Right, well, I'll put this in then," John approached her carefully and picked up something tiny off the table.  "Are you alright?"

Rose nodded.  "Yeah."

He shuffled up next to her and she felt him brush away her hair from her face and tried not to shiver at the touch.  She felt the tickle in her ear that must have signified the little device going in her ear, and almost squirmed against it. 

"Alright, you can't rub your ear or it'll go back into your ear canal.  Got it?" John's words were clinical, but his voice was so soft and gentle that her eyes fluttered closed, her false eyelashes touching her cheeks.  She nodded slowly, a sluggish and last minute motion.  

"Thanks," she said, stepping away from him, looking up at him.  "I think... You know, with Grace, and-"

"I think you're smarter than her," John blurted out.  "And you have the police.  You'll be safe.  I want to believe that, at least.  Because... Well." He shoved one of his hands in his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck with the other, studiously avoiding her gaze.  

"I certainly hope so," she said softly.  "It's not my first time going to a strange place, you know."

He winced. "Yeah.  I know," he looked at her again.  "And for what it's worth, I think you look beautiful, but not like yourself.  The way you looked when you came to mine for diner the other night.  I-" he cut himself off and looked away from her.  He couldn't seem to hold her gaze today.  

She swayed forward, than walked up to him and put her arms around his neck.  His breath hitched next to her ear and he hugged her back, his hands gentle and unsure against her back. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, blinking back tears, not wanting to ruin her makeup.  "I wanted things to be different."

"Me too."

She pulled away from him and looked up into his face.  His gaze was earnest and unwavering, but there was nothing else for him to do, and nothing else for her to say.  Donna and Jack re-entered the room then, all business, with files and chattered words, shattering the moment that had been occurring before them.  

"Do we need to go through anything else?" Donna asked, sitting down and crossing her legs, looking at Rose and John with a blank stare.  

Rose shook her head.  "Jack knows the code words, right?"

"'Let's go get a drink'," Jack recited, nodding.  "We hear those words and we knock the door in and drag him out of there."

Rose found herself smiling at that.  "We do."

The next hour was spent discussing formalities and trying to make sure that everything was secure and organized.  Of course, with Donna in charge, it certainly was, and Rose found herself feeling very safe.  

"Alright," Jack nodded, taking down a few last minute notes.  "We're going to take one undercover, John and Rose, you take Rose's car.  He'll switch to cram in with us when we get to the penthouse.  Got it?"

"Got it."  John got to his feet and waited for Rose to stand.  "We'll get a head start on you so no one suspects anything."

John and Rose left the station, Rose a bit slower behind John because of her heels, but managing quite well.  It turned out that when a girl learned to absolutely own a pair of high heels, she never really forgot.  

He opened the driver side door for her and let her in before slipping into his side.  They started off, in silence.  Neither of them looked at each other, even though they wanted to.  Rose drove carefully to the address, making sure they didn't take any wrong turns.  She stopped about a block before the penthouse she was supposed to enter.  

"Alright, I should probably drop you off here, just in case he's watching for me."

He watched her, finally letting himself look into her eyes.  "I'm worried.  Alright?  I think you're not as stable as you think you are.  No matter how strong you are."

She wrinkled her nose at him.  "Oh, come on.  You're not my dad."

His eyes darkened and he looked away from her.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I should hope not."  He swallowed hard and looked back to her.  "Be safe."

"Okay."

He left the car with one last tight lipped smile at her, as though he wanted to drive them both far far away and save her from any horrors that lay within the penthouse.  Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she wished he would.  

She curled her perfectly manicured fingers around the wheel and started the car again, feeling her heart thumping wildly in her chest.  The second John had left the car, this had felt like going to meet a client.  She parked her car and made her way to the front of the building.  She tried to make it to the elevator without being called, but it wasn't working. 

"Miss!  Is someone upstairs expecting you?"

Rose closed her eyes for a moment and when they were opened again, Belle was looking out.  She turned on the building employee and grinned, reaching out her hand daintily.  "Belle de Jour.  Someone is always expecting me."

The man was obviously confused but entranced, as he shook her hand a little too firmly.  "Yes, ma'am, go right up.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she gave his hand an extra squeeze before lifting a shoulder.  "We all make mistakes."

She could feel him staring at her as she walked away and instantly felt dirty.  She got into the elevator as fast as she could and waited to go up to the penthouse.  When the elevator let her off, she stepped out onto the plush carpet of that floor with the most grace and elegance she could.  

A light knock on the door brought a harsh "Coming!" from inside the penthouse.  Some shuffling and rearranging commenced, and the door was open, revealing a grinning Harold Saxon.  Rose's heart lurched up into her mouth.   So he was the killer.

"Belle de Jour," his lips curled around the name as he looked her over.  "I've been wanting to talk to you."

"I'll bet you have," Rose was an expert actor, and this moment was no exception.  "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."  He held the door open for her and watched her hungrily. 

Fighting down a shiver, she entered the penthouse, and Saxon shut the door behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

Rose felt her heart leaping in her chest in nervousness.  This man was one of the most feared, his armed robberies famed, but he'd never killed anyone.  She had expected Rassilon, if she was honest.  She wasn't sure which was worse. 

She entered the room as if she owned it, however, trying to take everything in stride. She threw her wrap on the plush chair in the corner.  "Lovely home, you have here."

"Oh, it's not my home, I'm just renting," he replied, painfully casual.  "Do you really like it?" 

Rose looked out one of the large windows and blew out a sigh of relief.  She could see her car, but any other officers were long gone.  "Yeah, it's very nice."

He chuckled, at some joke that no one had told, and walked to be behind her.  She tried not to stiffen at that.  He brushed his fingers across her back and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.  She had to fight to keep the bile from coming up into her throat. 

"Do you want to sit down?" Saxon asked, his voice smooth and low, as he backed up from her, as though preparing to go somewhere else.  

Rose turned around, looking over her bare shoulder, dropping her gaze in a way that she hoped was condescending. "Do you want to?"

He only smiled and crossed the living room to sit on his plush two person couch.  He watched her as he adjusted himself, getting comfortable. He cocked an eyebrow at her.   "Come sit with me?"

She couldn't afford to hesitate, he would think something was up, which of course, it was, but that wasn't the point.  So she forced a smile onto her face and perched next to him, as far away as she could possibly sit.  She was perched, her hands folded and placed over her knees, closing herself off from him physically. 

"You look lovely, Belle," Saxon said, leaning in towards her.  "I'm a little surprised you replied to my email at all."

"What can I say, I was intrigued?" Rose smiled, trying to feign that she was not feeling sicker and sicker at every moment, with every passing second she had to spend with Saxon.  He returned the smile. 

"No woman can resist poetry," Saxon said flirtatiously.  

"I suppose not."

She lifted her chin, wanting to gain some ground on the situation.  She watched him carefully, her mind whirring at a mile a minute trying to figure out exactly what to do, how to start this conversation.  This wasn't a simple conversation.  This was work.  She was reminded by the little device in her ear.  

"You wanted to talk?" She asked, tilting her head, feeling her curls brush over her shoulders.  She knew exactly what face she was making, knew her eyes were wide and expressive, watching his every move.

"I think you know why."  He got to his feet.  "Would you like some champagne?"

She looked up at him before getting to her feet to even out the situation.  "No.  I don't drink while I'm working."

Saxon's eyes darkened in anger, but he cleared that over quickly and plastered a smile onto his face.  "You're right, of course," he sat again, and she stood for another moment before sitting as well.  "Water?"

"Nothing, thank you." she leveled her gaze on him.  "I would like you to tell me why you brought me here."

His lips curled up in a smile.  "Of course," he was sitting too close to her, but she didn't have anywhere to move.  She planted a hand behind her on the arm of the couch as he spoke again.  "You know, I know you knew that girl, Grace.  That's why I called you."

"You know her real name," Rose said bluntly. 

"I know yours too," Saxon said, "I know plenty of things, Belle."

Rose narrowed her eyes.  "If you know my name, why call me Belle?"

"I like it better."

She swallowed heavily and watched him, waiting for him to do something off color or inappropriate.  In her mind it was only a matter of time before he did.  They stared at each other in a deadlock, waiting for someone to say something. 

"Tell me why you did it," Rose whispered.  She hoped her voice didn't sound vulnerable, but had a feeling it came out that way.

He leaned back, sensing he wasn't getting anything from her.  His back hit the seat and he looked over at her, keeping eye contact.  "Why did I do it?"

She nodded.  "That's what I said."

His eyes glazed over.  "You're beautiful."

"Not the point.  Not what we're talking about.  Why did you kill Grace?'

Saxon rolled his eyes.  "Good God, you are stubborn," he said, frowning.  

Rose furrowed her brows in upset.  "You're the one that called me over here, Mr. Saxon," she reminded him. 

"You're right," Saxon said. He stood up and walked to the large window by the bar he had next to his kitchen, his hands clasped behind his back. What he was looking at, Rose couldn't tell, but she hoped against hope that John wasn't pacing outside the building.  

Rose grew tired of waiting and spoke up again.  "You wore a purple cape to attack a woman.  I want to know why."

There was silence between them, and for a moment Rose thought that Saxon wasn't going to say anything at all.  His fingers flexed and wrapped around themselves again, clasping firmly.  "You know an old friend of mine." He said casually.  "John Smith."

His mouth wrapped around the name with hatred and it sent a chill through Rose, fear.  Not the emotion she liked to associate with John, but she wasn't really associating it with him.  It was fear for him, not of.  She got to her feet, eyes blazing.  "Detective Smith is none of your business."

"Oh, but he's yours," Saxon was downright cackling as he turned to face Rose again, a wicked smile on his face.  "You stayed at his home.  His _dead parents'_ home.  Until you ran away."

Rose felt her stomach turn to rocks.  "You've been watching us," she whispered. 

"Oh, yes," Saxon agreed.  "He craves you to be happy."

"This doesn't have anything to do with Grace," she stepped back.  "I want to know about Grace."

"But don't you want to know about John?"  Saxon laughed.  "He pretends he's not dependent on you, that he doesn't pine for you.  I watch him too, you know.  We grew up together."

"I know."

"Yes.  He was such a goody-goody, you would've hated him.  And now he is really very obsessed with you.  Don't you find that a bit unhealthy?"

Rose clenched her fists at her sides.  She knew what he was doing, knew that he was trying to get her to say something about John and their relationship. Why, she didn't know, but she knew exactly what it was for.  To get her off her guard. 

The worst part was that she knew that John was hearing every word, that they were running through his head and probably burning him deeper than they could ever burn her.  She clenched her jaw and shook her head.

"I didn't come here to talk about him."

"No?  What a shame.  You should've sent him up."

"Why did you call me?  Why are you confessing?"

Saxon approached her so quickly that she didn't have the chance to fend him off.  An arm wrapped around her waist and he tugged her against him, lowering his head to her ear and gripping her wrist in one hand. He spoke into the ear that held her device, and she wondered if he knew it was there, even if he couldn't see it.  

"I called you to take you from him," Saxon purred, "He deserves nothing, not even a filthy whore."

Rose shoved at his chest with her free hand, but he was as solid as a brick wall underneath her.  She forgot her code words, blanking in the anger she was feeling at his attack on John.  That was probably exactly what he had hoped would happen.  She racked her brain as his hot, disgusting breath hit her ear.  

"I'm not here to talk about him," She repeated, her voice shaking in anger.  She wanted to lash out, but couldn't grab him, had nothing to push him with.  Finally, in a blaze of self-defensive glory, Rose brought her knee up to land in Saxon's crotch,making him cry out in pain and release her before tumbling to the ground.  

She could run.  It would have been so easy to run, but she couldn't.  She needed to know what was happening.  That was the most important thing.  To see what happened to Grace. 

"I want to know why you killed Grace!" She shouted at Saxon from where he was lying on the ground, wheezing and scrambling for purchase.  "Tell me!"

"She didn't deserve to live.  She was bad for her finance, and her agency, and the whole bloody planet.  And you are, too!" 

Rose couldn't have seen it coming.  Saxon pulled out a gun from underneath the couch they had been sitting on and fired off two shots.  Her reflexes were good, but his were better, and both bullets hit her in the torso.  She fell to the ground, unable to even cry out.

"Let's go get a drink," she mumbled, hoping her device would pick it up along with the gunshots and know that she wasn't safe anymore.  

She couldn't breathe around her corset, and wished for the millionth time that she hadn't had to dress as Belle for this assignment. She was going to die as the persona she had tried to fight for so long.  All she could hear was her ragged breathing and Saxon laughing.  He finally spoke again, around his laughter. 

"Oh, you're a stupid, dirty, whore too!  Bet you stayed at John's, bet you _stayed_ at _John's._ How much did he pay for you, Belle?  How much!" 

Rose felt a tear slip from her eye as her vision started to blur.  Just then, the door was kicked in, and Donna, Jack, John, and the entire backup team entered the building, guns trained on Saxon.  John ran to Rose's side immediately and fell onto his knees next to her. 

"Stay with me, Rose, it's alright, I'm here."  He was babbling, knew he was, and she knew he was too, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind.  She wished she had the ability to do anything but cry.  

"Should've worn a bulletproof," she mumbled, blinking the tears away to look at him clearly.  Lifting up a shaky hand, she cupped his cheek.  "I was awful to you," she whispered.

"You're awful to everyone," he reminded her, tears gathering in his own eyes.  "Please stay awake, Rose, please."

"Oh, look, it's bloody Romeo and Juliet!  Off yourself next, John!  Do it, be with your lover!"  Saxon taunted from his spot, surrounded by officers.

John didn't look away from Rose, but his "Shut up!" was definitely directed at Saxon.  

"Read me my rights!" Saxon chanted, laughing manically. 

"He's crazy," Rose murmured.  She let her eyes slip closed.  "He's crazy, John."

"I know, I know he's crazy, Rose stay with me, please."  He took her hand, the one that was on his cheek, and clutched it in both of his hands, pressing her knuckles to his lips.  "I need you, Rose, please.   _Please!"_

Saxon laughed, and laughed, doubling over and taunting the officers.  "There goes your whore turned good guy!  How do you all feel!  She's going to die!"

John scooped her into his arms in a bridal carry, holding her close against his chest.  "I'm leaving, I'm taking her to the hospital."

Donna jerked her head over her shoulder, keeping her gaze locked on Saxon.  "Go."

John pushed through the officers, murmuring to Rose, trying to keep her awake.  He had no car and shouted for someone to call 999.  Luckily, the first person he came across was willing to call and stay with him as he was nearing hysterics.  She forced him to sit down on the bench, and he still cradled Rose to him, being careful of her wounds but so panicky that he wasn't sure he was doing anything right to help her.

"She was shot, she was shot," he muttered, cradling her against him and rocking back and forth.  Passers by kept staring at him and murmuring, but no one stayed to ask if she was alright, and it made an odd sort of fury bubble within him.  

The middle aged woman who was helping him furrowed her brows in worry as she hung up the phone. "They're coming, dear, are you alright?  She'll be fine, they'll take care of her, are _you_ alright?"

He blinked away tears, and shook his head.  He rose his eyes to the concerned woman before him.  "I love her."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably about two more chapters after this one!

In and out of consciousness.  She felt as though her hand was weighted, but she knew nothing else.  Her stomach ached painfully, and she struggled to breathe, though she wasn't sure why.  She managed to moan in pain, but there was no other sound that she could make.  A comforting shush came to her and she turned her face towards the sound.  

A hand stroked though her hair along with the gentle comforting sounds.  She whimpered and tried to roll towards the comfort, but pain shot along her insides and she cried out in pain. 

"It's okay, Rose, it's alright," the hand continued to stroke through her hair and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

She continued on like that for what felt like forever, days spreading on and on forever and ever.  At night, because she knew it was night, she felt someone rest next to her, warm breath touching her face.  It made her feel relaxed, knowing she wasn't alone.  Somehow, she knew she was with someone she trusted, that whoever it was was watching over her with a tender affection that made her feel safe. 

He spoke to her too sometimes, whispered words of gentility touching her ear.  "Wake up, Rose, please," his voice said softly, "Please, Rose."

She wanted to, for him, because he sounded so afraid, so concerned.  His fingers carded through her hair and his other hand was laced through hers.  Occasionally, her knuckles made their way to his mouth, where he laid gentle kisses.  He didn't leave, and when he did, it was incredibly brief.  

"Sir, don't you think you should leave? It's midnight," a nurse said, "Visiting hours are over."

"I'm with the London police," he said, and she felt herself grow warm at his voice.  "I'm staying with her."

"Yes sir," the nurse replied.  

Rose whimpered and it brought his attention right back to her.  He touched her cheek gently. "I'm here, Rose.  Wake up, you beautiful creature, it's alright."

The way he addressed her with such tenderness and affection made her feel like she wanted to swim up from sleep.  She wanted to say hello to him. She tried to remember his name, that was all she wanted.  She knew her name, knew who she was.  She wanted to remember him. 

It felt like years before she surfaced from consciousness.  She opened her eyes and closed them again when she saw the harsh lights above her.  She felt something rub over her hand and she opened her eyes again, looking into the eyes of John, who was standing over her, his hand in hers. 

"Hi," She said, her voice hoarse with disuse.  

"Hi," he replied, grinning down at her, his eyes crinkling with how wide he was smiling.  He shifted as though to lean down and kiss her forehead but fell into the chair next to her where he had been sitting. 

"How long have you been here?" She asked. 

"As long as you have," he replied softly.  "I couldn't... I couldn't leave you."

Rose gripped his hand a little tighter.  "So what happened to me?  I know I was shot, but..."

"Your lung was punctured.  You've been out for three days." He looked increasingly worried, his eyes looking misty with tears.  "And so, uh, I've been here for three days."

"It feels like it's been forever," she said.  "It's only been three days."

"Well, you did puncture a lung."  It was clear that he was trying to be playful, but his face scrunched up and tears filled his eyes.  "I was so afraid, Rose."

She drew her brows together.  "Were you really that worried?" She asked on a whisper.  

He was clearly trying not to show how much it affected him, but tears spilled over his cheeks and she tried to sit up, wanting to help him.  He pushed her gently back down. 

"I... You're awake, then, I should go.  Your mum's been in here, too, I should tell her you're awake."

"John..."

"No, it's okay, I'll just... I grab something to eat, and I'll come back, alright?"

She nodded slowly.  "Alright," she whispered.

He stood and removed his hand from hers, and if felt incredibly cold without his touch.  She wanted to reach for him and beg him to stay, but she couldn't find it in herself to do it.  She watched him leave and several minutes later her mother bustled in, looking frazzled and worried. 

"Are you ever going to have a safe job?" She demanded.

Rose huffed out a light laugh and winced.  "I guess not, mum."

"Well, you should try.  The Department is paying for your hospital bill.  Maybe you should quit."

"I'm not gonna quit."

"I was so _worried!_ Rose, you could've died."

She sobered, then, "I know.  John helped me."

Jackie sat down in the seat that John had been occupying.  "He's a good man, Rose."

"I know he is," she replied, because of course, that was true.  He was a good man, a better man than she deserved.

"He stayed by your bedside the whole time you were asleep, Rose.  And he talked to you, said the sweetest things."

Rose found herself incredibly interested by this.  She made Jackie push her bed up to a position closer to sitting.  It only hurt for a moment, and once she was closer to upright, she asked her mother, "What was he saying?"

Jackie leaned on her elbow next to Rose's leg and put her head in her hand.  "You know, it's probably very private thoughts."

She smiled a little bit.  "I wanna know them.  He was saying them to me anyway."

"Alright," Jackie smiled at her daughter like a teenager about to share secrets.  "He told you that he wanted you to wake up more than anything.  He told you that he loved you."

Rose's smile fell.  "He... He what?"

"He loves you."

"He shouldn't."

"Well, he does, and what's more, I think you love him too."

Rose frowned.  "I just... I _can't,_ mum, I'm not built for relationships.  I can't-"

"You can, with him," Jackie said firmly.  "And you should tell him as much when he gets back in here, because he loves you and he deserves to know that you love him too.  He told me about what happened when you had dinner together."

Rose made a frustrated noise.  "No, that's not something he should've talked about!"

"He felt rejected, Rose, and unless you want to lose something fantastic, you'd better tell him exactly what you think."

Rose laid her head down against the pillows.  "You know, I just woke up."

"Yes, and my job as a mother is to bother you at all times," Jackie replied playfully.  She smiled at her daughter.  "Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?"

Rose nodded, "Yeah, I feel much better."  

"It's getting late, do you want me to stay?"  Jackie asked softly. 

"Did you get any rest?" Rose asked in reply, "John said you've been here too."

"Not quite as close as him, but yes," Jackie said reluctantly.  

"Then you should go to bed," Rose replied, "I don't want you to get sick or anything from not having any rest."

Jackie eyed Rose carefully.  "So do you think you'll tell John what you're thinking?"

Rose narrowed her eyes.  "If he asks."

Jackie sighed.  "Well, it is what it is, then.  You are the way you are."

Rose smiled.  "Yeah."

Jackie kissed her daughter on the cheek and left, worrying all the way out and making sure Rose knew she loved her before she left the hospital room. 

Rose was able to sleep for a little bit before John re-entered the room, about three hours later.  He took his post back by her bed, sitting a little more quietly and stiffly than he had been before.  She reached out for his hand and he intertwined their fingers, smiling up at her.  

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly. 

"I'm fine," she replied, "You can sit closer if you want."

He scooted closer to her and pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.  Her breath hitched and she moved her hand, curling her fingers to cup his cheek in her hand.  He still held onto her wrist, touching her just barely, as though he was afraid she would thrash away from him. 

"John," she whispered, "You can sit closer."

His lip twitched.  "I'm already as close as I can get without sitting in the bed with you."

She stroked her thumb across his cheek. "Yeah, I guess."  She paused for a moment, chewing her lip.  "I'm sorry."

John furrowed his brow.  "What?  You didn't do anything."

"I ran away from you," she said softly, "You were so kind to me, you invited me into your home, and I was awful to you."

"You're awful to everyone," he reminded her, the words reminding her of what he had said when she had been shot initially.  He took her hand from his cheek again, holding it tightly between his own. "I really do... Rose, I don't blame you for what happened."

"You don't?" she whispered.

"No."

"You were so angry."

"I...  I didn't mean to be so angry with you." He paused. "Can I be honest with you?"  Rose nodded and he continued.  "The way I feel for you is something that made me angry when you left.  I felt rejected, and-"

"I got scared," she cut him off.  "I really did.  I'm not supposed to be in a relationship and the way you make me feel," She groaned and looked away from him.  "I feel something so strongly for you, John.  You've made me better, and I didn't think I wanted to be better."

John searched her gaze.  "How have I possibly made you better?"

"You remind me that there's something worth living for, and it's not just, I dunno, wading in my own self pity.  And then I got shot, and I thought that I'd never be able to tell you what I thought of you."

John smiled softly.  "You don't have to say anything right now, Rose, I know this is hard for you."

She wanted to tell him, she did, but it was difficult to get her mouth around the words, and she didn't know why.  She whimpered in frustration and tugged on his hands.  "John."

He stood up lightening fast and leaned over her, one hand braced on the pillow next to her head.  Now that she was fully upright it wasn't as awkward of an angle as it could've been, though it still looked uncomfortable.  She tilted her chin up and he took the invitation, lowering himself to kiss her. 

She moved one hand to run into his hair, her fingers curling against his scalp.  He kissed her slowly, his mouth learning hers and being gentle with her.  He moved his hand from the pillow to cup her cheek gently, his mouth opening slightly over hers.  She opened her mouth to him eagerly, allowing him entrance she had wanted to give to him, if she was honest, since the day she met him. 

They were, perhaps, a bit too repressed, and a bit too arduous, because Rose's monitored heart rate started to go up and she pulled away, breathing hard.  She smiled and kept her fingers locked in his hair.  "If we keep going, the nurse is going to come check on me."

He smiled at her happily and gave her another quick peck.  "I'm not done, but we'll stop for now, I guess." 

He sounded like he was feigning reluctance, and it made her laugh a little bit.  She removed her hand from his hair and he sat back down in his chair.  "So, I've got a question for you."  He said seriously. 

She winced as she tried to shift and get more comfortable.  "So, what is it, then?"

"Well, of course, this would have to wait until you were better, you must understand that," he continued, watching her with worry.  "You're certainly unwell still."

"Yeah, well what's your question?" She asked.  She was feeling afraid, of him, of the looming relationship, but she wasn't going to let it change her decision, or keep her from him.  She wanted him, possibly needed him, and silly fear wasn't going to change that.

He held her hand gently, and smiled at her with what appeared to be relief.  "Would you like to come to dinner with me?"

She giggled.  "When and where, John?"

"As soon as you can leave this place, and mine."

Rose smiled, managing to nod around her nervousness.  "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Oh, good."  He blew out a sigh, "I was almost afraid that you'd say no."

She shook her head.  "No, John, I wouldn't.  Never again."


	15. Chapter 15

John stayed with Rose the whole time she was in the hospital, his hand in hers and occasionally chatting with Jackie when she came in (which was every day).  They seemed to get on, which struck Rose as odd, because her mother usually hated all of her boyfriends, but she supposed that John wasn't her boyfriend (yet) and maybe her mother just wanted her to have someone.  She'd been alone for a very long time, after all, and the boys she'd been with hadn't been good. 

He kept his hand in hers and as they talked, Rose learned so much about John.  He was clever and creative and with each passing day he took care of her, and she opened herself up to him.,

It was something she hadn't necessarily wanted to happen, but there it was, right before her, in the form of this man. He hadn't kissed her since the first time, probably because her mother was around, and she hoped the looks she was giving him were persuading.  He just gave her smiles and squeezed her hand, making her roll her eyes and lean back on the pillows.

She started taking walks up and down the hospital hallways, John's arm around her waist and his other hand in hers, leading her carefully.

"I feel so useless," she muttered as she stumbled along in between John and her mother.

"Of course you're not useless, sweetheart," Jackie said comfortingly, watching John lead her daughter with a little smile on her face.

"Did you ever hear what happened to Saxon?" John asked, trying to change the subject and perhaps encourage her a bit.

Rose shook her head, then had to stop walking, as the motion had made her dizzy.  "No, nobody told me.  Donna was awfully cryptic when she visited."

"Yeah, well, she shot him," John replied bluntly.  "He started coming after Jack, and he's a bit bigger than Jack, and brute force from the other officers wasn't helping.  He's sentenced to life in prison."

Rose let out a low whistle.  "Wow."

"And none of that could've been done without you, Rose," he said softly, "You know that, don't you?  How important you were to this investigation?"

She nodded slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, and managed to smile up at him.  "Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to her temple and continued leading her down the hallway, blushing when he caught Jackie's smug look.

About two months later, she was fully healed.  The doctors hadn't wanted to let her go before that simply because of all the infections and complications that could happen.  She was delicate, whether she wanted to admit it or not.  Jackie was at work when she was discharged and fretted about not being able to leave work, but John said he would take care of her.  Rose didn't object, even though she knew an old version of herself would have.

They got into his car, and he held the door open for her, as he always did, and he drove her back to her flat.  He helped her out, carrying the overnight bag that she had had, and she let him up into her flat without a second thought.

She was feeling much stronger, but he seemed genuinely excited to be helping her along, wanting her safe.

"Do you want some tea?" She asked, heading for the kitchen.

"I'll get it," he replied, taking her by the hand and guiding her back to the couch.

"Oh, come on, I can do it," she whined.

"Rose," he said warningly, and without giving her time to argue, disappeared back into the kitchen.  She waited for him patiently, and when he brought the tea back in, he sat down next to her, perhaps a bit closer than he would have before. 

He handed her a mug and she set it right down on the coffee table, turning to him instead.  He looked surprised until she cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him.  Distantly, she heard him set down his own mug before he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her gently but so lovingly.  She could've wept with it, were she not growing so obsessed with his touch, his mouth over hers.

John pressed her back gently so she was laying down on the couch, her head on the armrest.  He hovered over her, continuing to kiss her, worshiping her mouth.  She had never felt so loved and the intensity of it all was enough to send her into the clouds.

Finally, when both of them were panting for breath, he broke away from her, gazing down at her with a hooded gaze.  He let his head drop to the crook in her neck and he mumbled something there, making her squirm and giggle.

"What was that?" She asked, running her hand through his hair and enjoying the groan he let out in response.

He mumbled again, and she nodded, guessing whatever it was, he wasn't able to say out loud just yet.  She let her hands rest on his head as he relaxed there.

After awhile, he pulled up, sitting back on his haunches on the couch, and she pouted.  He chuckled and reached for her hands, pulling her up so they were eye level.  He brushed her hair behind her ear.  "Rose, I want to wait until you're well."

"I'm well!  They let me go!" She protested.

He rolled his eyes.  "Yeah, well, you promised you'd come to mine for dinner, how about tomorrow?"

She pretended to ponder it, then nodded, a smile on her face.  She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, wondering when she had gotten so lucky, because it had to be luck.  She closed her eyes against the beating of his heart as he stroked her hair.  They sat there quietly, holding each other as their tea got cold on the living room coffee table.  She closed her eyes and snuggled against him.

"You could stay here, if you wanted," she said sleepily.  "M'tired, I don't want to be alone."

His fingers laced through her hair and she felt his nod.  "Okay, I'll stay."

That night, he simply stripped down to his boxers and undershirt before crawling into bed with her.  She was still feeling a bit tender and did enjoy the fact that she had something to cuddle up against after being only able to hold his hand for two months. 

She didn't realize how much she had learned to crave his touch, even if it was chaste and innocent.  They were made to be together, to touch and be held.  She snuggled up against him immediately, wanting him to hold her close possibly forever if he could.  That was all she wanted, she decided, cuddling up against him.

He obliged her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her even closer to his side.  Her head rested on his chest and she wrapped an arm around his waist.  She sighed softly and closed her eyes, feeling the safest she had ever been. 

He pressed a kiss to her head and hummed happily, and she saw him wiggle his feet under the covers. She giggled and put one of her legs over his.  She pulled the duvet up farther on them, wanting to feel like she was wrapped up in him.

"I hope you're feeling better about... I don't know, everything," he said softly, as though afraid of breaking the air around them.

Rose sat up, bracing her elbow on his chest so she could look down in his face.  "Yeah," she said, nodding. "You make me forget that I'm supposed to be damaged goods."

He frowned.  "You're not damaged goods, Rose, you deserve more than any other woman, with what you've been through.  You make me feel a way no one else has, that doesn't make you damaged goods."

She smiled a little bit, unable to help it.  "You're too good for me."

He raised his eyebrows.  "No, you're too good for me."

"I'm not going to argue."

He reached up to cup her cheek, his eyes softening.  "Rose, I don't want you to," he admitted softly.  "I want you to... I just... Well, okay, just go to bed."

She giggled over his stumbling.  "Thank you," she said, "For taking care of me.  While I was in the hospital and... Before, even if I didn't see it."

He leaned up and she leaned down, kissing him gently before laying her head back on his chest.  "I don't want you to ever leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. 

She fell asleep, feeling safe and strangely loved.

*****

The next morning, they woke up tangled together, her arms wrapped tightly around him and her legs tangled with his, as though she was afraid that he was planning on going somewhere during the night, which of course, he was not.  He would stay forever in Rose Tyler's arms if he could.  He pressed gentle kisses to her brow, hoping to rouse her quietly.  No matter how much he wanted to stay, he needed to go and prepare for the dinner he planned on making for her.

She hummed happily as she swam up from sleep, a gentle smile on her face.  She tilted her chin up for a kiss and he swooped down to kiss her deeply, which woke her right out.  He squeezed her gently against him and rolled her over, settling over her. 

Rose ran her hands up his back under his undershirt and he shivered, finally sitting up, gasping for air. "I should get going," he said, resting his hands on her legs.

"No," She whined, and he laughed as she tried to tug him back over her.  He was stronger than her, keeping himself from going back on top of her. 

"Look, I think if I want to make you a good dinner tonight, I should go." He kissed her once more.  "Thank you," he said honestly.

"For what?" She asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

He reached out and brushed his fingers across her jaw. "For giving me a chance.  I know that's hard for you."

She nodded.  "I don't know, I think you might be worth it."

His face broke out to a huge grin and she laughed, sitting up to sit with him, just to feel closer.  They looked at each other for a moment, and she wiggled her feet against his legs.  He laughed too. 

Rose honestly couldn't remember a time when she'd been this happy.  It felt like something normal people did, waking up with her bloke and sharing playful kisses and conversations.  She grinned and reached out to hold his face between her hands.

"You fixed me," she said seriously. 

He smiled softly at her.  "I'm going to make you the best dinner every, and I want to make you so happy, Rose."  He kissed her softly and pulled away, getting off the bed.  "Come to mine at six."  He started to get dressed and then turned to her again. "And don't get scared before you come over."

When had he gotten to know her so well? She smiled a little bit and felt a blush crawl over her cheeks.  "Yeah, I'm gonna... I'm gonna do my best."

"I know," he said, "I know things are hard for you, but you can, and deserve, to be happy.  You know that now."

"Yeah."

"Alright, I'll see you at six."  He gave her another quick kiss and disappeared with a smile over his shoulder.  She found herself with a stupid grin on her face that was rudely interrupted by her ringing phone.  She answered it without looking and was greeted with Donna shouting in her ear.

"I know you just got back from the hospital, but I wanted to congratulate you." 

"On what?" She asked, puzzled.

"You solved the case, Saxon is put away."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, John told me," Rose said, feeling relieved that she was hearing for the second time that Saxon was taken care of.

Donna laughed on the other end. "I'll bet he did.  He's a good one, then, yeah?"

Rose felt herself blushing. "Oh... Oh... Um, yeah, we just, we're gonna-"

"You're good for each other," Donna said softly.  "I'll let you alone.  Neither of you have to come in to work for the next few days, I know it's been difficult for you both.  I'll call you in later this week, alright?"

"Alright.  Thank you, Donna," Rose said earnestly.  "Goodbye."

Donna bid her goodbye and Rose hung up, feeling lighter than air.  Somehow she knew that this night was going to change things.  She had already felt herself change, after all.

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THIS STORY AHHHH <3 I'll have the next one up soon I just don't know what I'm doing yet

She was incredibly panicky, as John had predicted she would be. She was afraid of commitment, afraid of love, afraid of _him,_ even as she wanted to be as close to him as possible.  It was impossible, really, the idea of dating her partner, but she really just didn't want to think of the idea of _not_ dating her partner, because that was way worse.  

As a result, she paced around for ages and ages, throwing on clothes and taking them off in upset, thinking they just weren't right.  She'd completely mucked up the last time she was at his house, and she didn't want to ruin this time.  This was supposed to be promising. 

Finally, she settled on a black pair of stretch pants and a blue vest top with a cardigan over it.  It looked very fall casual and she was very proud of the look. To top it off, she slipped on a pair of dark flats and a silver necklace.

She felt beautiful, and it wasn't because of what she was wearing, it was because of the way she knew John was going to look at her when she went into the room.  He was always looking at her like she was beautiful. 

When it came time to leave, her heart started pounding again and she had to tell it to calm down. She hadn't had a bloke in so long, at least one that she wasn't paying, and she couldn't help but feel as though it were looming over her like a big animal waiting to strike on its prey.  What if things went badly? What if they went well?  Either way, there were things she couldn't bear to think of.

Before she could stop herself by overthinking, she got in her car and drove to John's.  She remembered the address and exactly how to get there, her heart swelling in anticipation as she pulled into his driveway. 

She mounted the steps to his door and knocked timidly, a much different entrance than her last one to his home.  He opened the door in jeans and a button down oxford, and she thought he'd never looked more beautiful.  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him so he could kiss her. She squeaked in surprise but wrapped her arms around his neck anyway.  He hummed happily and pulled away, smiling down at her. 

"We're already doing better than last time," John teased, gesturing for her to enter and shutting the door behind her.  She giggled and waited for him to lead the way to the dining room, even though she remembered exactly where it was.  

His house seemed even lovelier now that she'd spent two months getting to know the man who lived in it.  It seemed even warmer and more inviting, as though John's parents themselves were enveloping her in an embrace, welcoming her to the family.  She couldn't help but smile a little to herself at the thought. 

"Alright, then, I've made us pasta, I hope that's alright with you," John said.  The plates were already set out, the bowls of sauce and pasta on the table.   

"It's great," she replied honestly as he pulled her chair out for her so that she could sit. She sat down and grinned up at him, enjoying the chivalry and attention.

John took his seat next to her.  "You're a much more positive guest this go around," he teased. "It wouldn't have anything to do with my charm, would it?"

Rose smiled, perhaps a bit more softly than before. "Oh, I suppose that's part of it."

He made a face.  "Only partly?  You wound me, Rose Tyler.  I had expected more from our night together."

"Another movie?" 

"If you like."

Now that they had spent so much more time together, the conversation was easy and they could reference back to things that they actually knew about each other.  John watched her with an attentiveness that made her blush, but one that she liked quite a lot.  His full attention was on her, and he was intent on letting her know by the way his eyes searched hers.  He almost missed his mouth with his fork on numerous occasions because of it. 

"I think you should know about what happened to me," Rose finally said after they had discussed their parents at length.

John's eyes softened.  "You don't have to do that," he said, "Your father left you debt, you had no other choice.  That's all."

"No, it wasn't just that," she shifted in her seat.  "I was with this guy at the time, Jimmy Stone?  Had his debt too.  Convinced me to drop out of school to live with him. He had a band, you know, and was always 'with' his groupies.  I stayed home a lot, until one day I came home and all our stuff was gone along with all the money in my bank account."

"Oh, Rose."  His voice was incredibly sympathetic and she offered him a smile.

"I thought I loved him," she said, "But I hated him because of what I had to do."  She looked at him, searching his gaze.  "You don't think I'm disgusting?  For doing... You know, what I did?"

John looked shocked at the very notion, and shook his head with conviction.  "I think you're incredibly brave," he replied honestly, "You did what needed to be done the only way you knew how to do it.  And it got you out and then you left.  You became a detective, you became something _brilliant_ because you didn't let your past drag you down.  But you seem to want it to keep me away from you."

He said the last part quietly, as though he had never meant to say it out loud and it had just slipped past his teeth of its own accord.  He looked up at her sheepishly, and she didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't for her to shake her head like she was doing.  A firm, confident 'no'.  

"I just want you to be sure," she replied, "About me.  Because I couldn't take us... Getting involved, and then for you to realize that you deserve better than a washed up call girl."

John cocked an eyebrow.  "If you're trying to insinuate that you're out of shape, I'd like to point out that you have a very nice bum."  She laughed and he smiled winningly at her before his voice clouded over with seriousness and he continued. "I care about you.  No matter what you've done in the past, and your past isn't going to make me run away from you.  But it's made you run away from me," he reminded her gently. 

She blushed.  "I was being stupid.  I still am, kind of.  I was really anxious to come over here," she stirred her spaghetti around on her plate, not wanting to look at him anymore.  His gaze was too open, too honest, and every time she looked at him she felt like her heart was going to absolutely explode.  "I cried all the way home, when I left here."

He tugged her chair so she wasn't in front of the table and got to his knees before her.  "I only ever want to take care of you," he whispered, his voice full of emotion.  "It's all I've wanted since the day I met you."

She shuffled her feet on the carpet next to his knees.  "That's a little fast," she said, forcing a laugh. 

"Yes, it is," he agreed, nodding.  "But I know what I want, and I've never wanted anyone like I want you, and I don't mean that physically."  He corrected himself quickly, "Although it's physical as well.  You pushed me away when all I wanted was you wearing my t-shirts and walking around my kitchen early in the morning and cuddling me when we're watching telly or something."  He backed up and scratched the back of his neck, looking suddenly sheepish. 

She grinned, unable to hold back her happiness.  "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" She asked teasingly. 

He smiled back at her.  "Rose, what I feel for you surpasses girlfriend, I don't think there's a word in the English language for what I want you to be to me."

Her heart swelled at the news.  "Yours, maybe?"

The look he gave her was one full of astonishment.  "Only if I can be yours."

"That settles it then," she said softly.  "Now, get, our dinner is going to get cold."

He chuckled and got back into his seat, looking at her like she was the most precious thing he had ever laid his eyes upon.  "Now, which movie tonight, Rose Tyler?"

****

They watched their movie in nearly the same position as they had the other night she had been there, but this time, of course, the tension wasn't radiating off of Rose in waves.  Now, she was leaning up, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.  He shivered and held her closer until they both abandoned the movie in favor or Rose straddling his lap so she could kiss him fully.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and returned the embrace tenderly, as though they had all the time in the world to relearn each other's mouths, which they probably did, honestly.  She wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he, so there was nowhere to spend eternity but in each other's arms. 

"Wait," he mumbled against her mouth, pushing her away slightly.  He gripped her hips before she could get the wrong idea and scoot off of him.  "I have to tell you something before this escalated."

She rocked against him and grinned.  "Okay.  Are you a serial killer?"

He let out a breathless laugh and shook his head.  "No," he replied, reaching up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "I just... I love you, that's all."

Her head swam with the words.  It had been years since those words had been uttered to her in sincerity and not from a client that she could just brush off with a smile.  She reached up to cup his cheeks, forgetting all about the task at hand. 

"John," she breathed.  "I love you."

And just like that, those words belonged to him.  He let out a long, whooshing breath and flipped her onto her back on the couch in one smooth motion, hovering over her.  "I love you," he proclaimed again, gleefully, reaching down to kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until she couldn't breathe.  He kissed down her jawline and to her neck, sucking hard on her neck until an angry purple bruise came up. 

"You git, I'll have to cover that up."  She smacked his shoulder. 

He looked up at her with an overly innocent look on his face.  "You know, if you stay here until it fades you won't have to worry about it."

She wiggled against him.  "I don't have any other clothes."

"Who needs clothes?" He dove on her again, kissing all over her and making her giggle.  She ran her hands up into his hair and let her eyes flutter shut as he worshiped her exposed skin.  

"I love you," she breathed again, needing to say it, needing him to know that she felt it.  Please, let know it.  She felt as though she were in a cheesy romance movie, where the lead woman finally found the man she was supposed to be with forever.  That was all that mattered.  This.  The two of them. 

Forever.

They didn't make it off the couch that night, ending up a little less than 'decent to be seen outside' and covered up in an afghan.  John cringed when Rose reminded him that it was his mother's but he looked down at her flushed face and smooth skin and smiled.  "She'd want us to be happy," he told her, and laid on his side so that his plush couch would be wide enough for them to cuddle on.  

She fell asleep tangled up in him, and John stroked her bare side, wondering when he had gotten so lucky to find her.  She was perfect, and she was perfect for him.  He kissed her temple and snuggled down next to her, drifting off feeling safe and loved, hoping she was feeling the same thing. 

****

When they went into work next, they went holding hands.

****

Sixty cases and a year later, Donna pestered him about proposing.  John kept eyeing the skin of Rose's ring finger until she smacked him for being weird. 

****

Seventy cases and a year and two months later, John fidgeted around his house waiting for Rose to arrive.  There was a trail of rose petals leading to the dining room table, where a big chocolate cake sat, and he stood next to it in a tuxedo. 

Rose felt incredibly under dressed in her black dress and nude tights, but he assured her over and over that she looked beautiful. 

"Rose Tyler, I have to ask you something."

She looked around at the mood lighting and laughed nervously before looking back at him.  "Okay, yeah, I'm ready."

He stepped forwards and took her hands in his.  "You deserve the world, and I'm going to give you as much of it as I can.  And now... Well, we're partners, yes, but I love you more and more every day, and I don't just want to be your boyfriend and your partner."

He got to his knee and she gasped.  He pulled out a ringbox and popped it open. "It was my mother's," he said, "And she would want you to have it.  Because you're the most important woman in my life."  He let out a shuddering breath.  "So, Rose Tyler, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Her eyes flooded with tears. She never thought she could have this, and here he was, with his tousled hair, looking up her with earnest, beautiful brown eyes. And he was perfect.  They were perfect.

"Yes!" She shouted, laughing through her tears.  "Yeah, yes, I'll marry you."

He slipped the ring on her finger and got to his feet to kiss her deeply.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, the new welcome weight on her finger making her so undeniably happy.  He picked her up around the waist and squeezed her to him.  Finally, he pulled away and wiped her tears away as they both laughed in a sort of giddy way. 

"Rose Tyler, I was born to love you."

She nudged his nose with hers.  "Better with two?" She asked breathlessly.

He took another long kiss from her, drawing it out until they were both panting, and he replied, nearly on a whisper, words just for her.  Always just for her.  His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he told her:

"Better with _you."_


End file.
